You Can't Spell Slaughter Without Laughter
by Imogen Kain
Summary: Funny, how trying to fight it just made it harder. Or more complicated. Weirder. Funnier. Definitely funnier. But fighting the inevitable was a waste of time, no matter how much you wanted to keep yourself intact... JokerXOC, during TDK. Review please!
1. Chapter 1

****NOTE: Revamp of these chapters! I'm going through and editing what I did more than a year ago, the better for your reading pleasure!****

**Hey guys! So this is my first attempt at a Joker fan fiction... I started it the night after seeing the movie because I thought the idea was so weird and cool. **

**To explain: the OC is a girl in our world, not a comic book one, but at some point or another the two universes, that of DC and that of reality, collide. In the comic books, the Joker was the only character who seemed to know that there was a world beyond the pages, so I decided to use that to write this.**

**That being said, this is DEFINITELY an attempt at Heath Ledger's Joker. He is the only man who ever did real justice to the character... Nicholson was great but Heath... Heath revolutionized it.**

**I know probably everyone says this, but this was really inspired by a dream... so it can get kind of surreal. **

**Please PLEASE review! Reviews get me through the night. Anything would be helpful, ESPECIALLY clues as to where I'm going wrong with the Joker's character. That's something I'm REALLY struggling with. So anything would be awesome. Thanks! Enjoy!**

* * *

Funny, how trying to fight it just made it harder. Or more complicated.

Weirder.

Funnier.

Definitely funnier.

But fighting the inevitable was a waste of time, no matter how much you wanted to keep yourself intact. No matter how hard it was to be ripped apart.

Hard.

Or funny.

That wasn't to say it was all bad. Not bad at all, really.

They'd had their share of laughs (oh had they!) and they had cried. At least, _she_ had cried. She wasn't so sure about him.

They always said the world saw him laugh but only she'd seen him cry. Well… not her. A different _her_. A harlequin. Or a Harley Quinn. But Harley had never arrived for the opening act, so the show went on without her. And now there was only one her for him and she had seen him cry.

Or had she? Sometimes tears turned out to be laughter.

You can't spell slaughter without laughter.

* * *

Looking back now, it all seemed so insignificant. She was playing a game, an innocent game. Not a _Game-_game. A literal game. An Alternate Reality Game, actually. On the internet.

You know; you go to sites, find fake phone numbers, watch phony news footage claiming to be real live videos of the goings on in a fictional town, call the numbers, hear the voices of the actors as they say things their characters would… It was all very thrilling at the time.

She had given her number to every site she could find that had to do with the movie. It was coming out soon. She was thrilled for its release and hoped every day that she would be one of the millions of numbers picked to perhaps receive a real call from a character. How cool would that have been?

Imagine her joy when she received such a call.

She was a young thing then, only eighteen, just out of her senior of high school. Too young for him, but who was counting anything but money those days?

The phone call came in the middle of the afternoon, while she was lying on her bed, wasting the day away.

She answered the unknown number with a reserved, "Hello?"

Imagine, please, her shock and awe when that voice, a voice she'd grow to know very well, answered on the other end.

"Jessica Anderson? This is the Joker." It, the voice, paused and she waited for the rest. "This _is_ Jessica, right?"

He paused again and she realized she was meant to respond! This meant the call wasn't automated, as they had been before.

"Yes…"

"Hi there." His tone was almost conversational. There was—there _always_ was—a slight bitterness to it, covered by the ever present sound of laughter in his throat. It wasn't necessarily pleasant, not a sexy voice, higher pitched and throaty as it was, but she immediately liked it.

"I _assume_ you know who I am."

Jessica made a noise of acquiescence to this immediately. He had said he was the Joker. Was she really speaking to _the_ actor who played him? Probably not. An imitator at most. But this was official, ARG stuff! She was getting called!

"How… are you?"

She almost laughed at that one. This was weird, but certainly cool.

"I'm fine. And you?"

A noise, caught and stretched brutally somewhere between a guffaw and a giggle, came through the earpiece, as though she had delighted him.

"Fine, I'm just _fine_," the Joker's voice said. "See, I'm just calling to let you know that I've chosen you as one of my Lucky Twenty… My own little _group_ to _personally _serve as my new assistants, helping me spread… uh… _chaos_ further than my meager reaches here in Gotham. Assuming you accept. D'you accept?"

"Of course!" Her enthusiasm was insurmountable. Part of the Lucky Twenty, now _that_ sounded promising. Of course, she didn't believe the "twenty" part for a moment. The game was huge and popular. Twenty? More like hundreds. Still, she was being asked to join for real and she was not going to let that go.

Funny how not knowing all the facts like that can get you in trouble, huh?

"Great," the Joker said, a little dryly. This voice actor was _really_ good, she thought. Very villainous. "I'll be asking you to do just one or two _tiny_ favors for me, up until the eighteenth of next month. Sound good?"

"Yeah!"

"Good…" His tone was neither impressed, nor pleased. If anything, he was sardonic. She thrilled. This voice actor was _really, really_ good. "We'll be in touch then. You'll hear from me _very_ soon. Take care, Jessica Anderson."

And with a click, the line was dead.

Jessica lay back on her bed and screamed into a pillow.

* * *

It wasn't how he had promised it would be. It wasn't how anyone had said. Letting those dreams go was probably the hardest part.

For a while she was confused but excited.

No one knew anything about the Lucky Twenty. She searched the internet for a mention of that name, but nothing having to do with the DC universe came up, much less the Joker. Finally, after going on a message board, she got in touch with a man who called himself Billy and claimed he had received a similar phone call, but besides her had met no one else who knew a thing about it.

The creepiest thing about Billy's predicament was that he hadn't even been playing the ARG. He hadn't given his number to anyone, but the Joker had called him all the same; knew his name and where he lived. She thought it might be a trick, that they lived near each other and someone who knew them was messing with the both of them. Upon bringing this theory up, however, she discovered that Billy lived in Maine, across the country. At least, he said he did.

You could never tell with a faceless personality you had met on the internet.

Turned out, Billy _did_ live in Maine and he never lied to her. The phone call from the Joker was not a trick.

Funny, how far that man was capable of taking a joke.

All the same, Jessica wanted to play the game. The thought of giving it up was torturous. If it got too intense, too scary, she could simply stop. She had the number of the first caller saved to her cell and if she ever so desired, she could simply not pick up when he called. Or write to the people who regulated the game that she was dropping out and to cease contacting her at all.

That was the worst case scenario. She thought it wouldn't get that far.

She _knew_ it wouldn't get that far.

Always wanting to play the game, never wanting to miss out.

That could get you into trouble, too.

Funny, huh?

* * *

**Hope you liked the first installment. A lot more to come. RATE AND REVIEW, S'IL VOUS PLAIT! Thanks.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here, look, I wrote you a poem:**

**Woo hoo, chapter two!  
Thanks for reading, please review!**

* * *

A week later, Jessica received a package in the mail. It was a dingy little thing in a big yellow manila envelope, and her name and address were typed crookedly across the top in faded red ink.

It sort of jarred her, looking at the print and grime on the packaging. Already, the whole thing had an air of criminality about it.

Upon opening the envelope, out fell a disposable camera, a can of red spray-paint, and a joker card.

Her hand shook as she picked up the last item and examined it for a moment, before reaching back into the parcel and withdrawing the folded note within. It was written on waterlogged, wrinkled card paper. The handwriting was sloppy and jagged, a chicken scratch that obviously came from a hand that was too hastily employed in things besides writing and easily distracted.

It began with no greeting or formalities. It simply stated the following:

_For your first assignment you'll be needing the supplies I packed you. Go to your local mall or shopping center and find a big brick wall. Big. Very, very big. On that wall, I want you to use the paint I sent you to write in letters as big as the big brick wall the following message:_

_THE JOKER IS COMING_

_Decorate it any way you'd like. Be creative! I like creativity. Creativity is the first step towards change and let's face the music; we all need change. Then take a picture. A good one. And send it to me within the next week. If you don't, you're out of the game and believe me, the fun's just beginning._

_Oh and one more thing. Do it at night. Don't want to get caught now, do we?_

_-- J_

There was an email address at the bottom of the page, simply joker (at) improviseddissonance . com

She laughed when she saw the website name and typed it almost immediately into her browser. The appearing page was blank white. The only words were the caption "Improvised Dissonance: An Age Appearing."

She highlighted all, went to the source code, did everything she could to find another clue to the truth behind the Luck Twenty. But there were absolutely no clues to be found. This didn't lead her anywhere. There was nothing left to do but what he had asked.

* * *

She chose a Wednesday night to complete her mission.

Even during the summer months, fewer people were out late on Wednesday than on the weekends and even if it _was_ publicity for the upcoming movie, she couldn't see many people being very happy about her spray-painting an enormous message on public property.

She tucked her light blond hair under a hood, covered herself in black clothes and, feeling completely criminal but very excited about it, drove downtown to pick the right wall.

In the end she chose one of the tunnels in the city park. The location was really rather poetic. It was on a frequently used bike path in the commons, overlooking the river, and as you left the tunnel the first thing you saw to your right was the movie theater across the square. Perfect.

Jessica painted the message as well as she could, but in the darkness it was not easy, especially as she had to hide whenever she heard people walking up the trail, interrupting her work and creating a rather lopsided effect overall. But finally, after a solid half hour, the message was finished in huge, dramatic letters that, in the daytime, were sure to attract attention. She completed it by painting a grotesque grin and huge circular eyes—like the faces she had seen on the internet—next to the letters.

Happy with her creation, Jess stepped back to admire her work and raised the camera to take a picture of the wall.

The flash from the device blinded her momentarily, but when her eyes started to grow accustomed once more to the darkness she noticed two flashlights off down the path and the low authoritative voices of grown men. Her first thought was _police_ and she immediately turned and sprinted in the opposite direction, throwing her paint can into a dumpster as she passed and holding on tightly to the little camera. In the morning, she promised herself, first thing, she'd get the picture developed and scanned onto a computer.

Her little mission done, a triumphant Jessica drove home and collapsed into bed, a little thrilled at the beginnings of her life of crime.

* * *

The next night she received a message from Billy, asking if she had completed her assignment. Indeed she had, and the picture was already scanned and sent to the Joker's email address. She related as much to him and he responded by telling her that he, too, had accomplished the task.

Not only that, but he had managed to track down another person who claimed to be a member of the Lucky Twenty. Jessica smiled when she read his words. Over the past week she had come to know and like Billy through their internet correspondence and she was glad she had another person working with her on this. It made her feel less alienated.

As for Billy's new find, he went by the name of Austin and apparently lived in Florida. He was young, too, like Billy and Jess; only twenty one. Billy was a little older at twenty three and Jessica, of course, was still the eighteen year old baby and the only girl so far.

She wondered who else she would meet in the next month. She was connected to these people, after all. They were part of the same private and, she was beginning to believe, very exclusive little club. The Lucky Twenty.

The Joker's Lucky Twenty.

Funny, how things can start out so innocent.

* * *

Events happened in fairly rapid succession from then on.

A day or two later, Jess received a confirmation e-mail from the Joker, saying that she had passed the first test. From there, he sent her on various missions almost constantly. She was ordered to cause her own bit of public mayhem (she got a group of friends together, put on the Joker's signature face paint and drove from rich, private neighborhood to rich, private neighborhood, climbing over fences and egging the biggest, fanciest house), then to steal something, _anything_, and sending it to him. She took a button with his cartoon face on it from a store.

In the letter that confirmed her task was complete and assigned her next mission, he expressed outrage that they had gotten his features so absurdly skewed.

This went on for a month, the missions getting bigger and more illegal as time went by, but she completed them all and found herself so sucked up in the movement that she would sometimes forget that it was only a game.

Often she found herself wondering what her "boss" was like, if he really looked like he did on the leaked pictures from the internet, and she had to remind herself that _of course_ he looked that way. He couldn't look any other way because he _wasn't real_.

This fact became harder and harder to grasp as the days went by and she shared her mental state with Billy, wondering if it was the same for him. He conceded that yes, it was, and together they made a pact to remind each other of the fictitious nature of the Joker.

They had found five more members in that time, all men between the ages of eighteen and twenty-seven, but had not yet had much luck in finding the other twelve. With eight cyber eyes out there, however, they knew it probably would only be a matter of time.

The discovered members of the Twenty put up a message board that could be found by anyone interested enough in the group to search, which would only be more of its members. Here they discussed missions, introduced themselves, and speculated upon the final task and what would become of them when the movie came out.

Jessica continued as the only girl, as well as the youngest of them, but even though she only knew them over the internet, she and the seven men began to form friendships. She was the first one they thought of when a new task was received and the first they cautioned if the task was illegal or dangerous. A protective streak ran through most of them for her, one which was obvious and touching. She and Billy, however, remained closest.

Some of the men, like Billy, had not played the ARG before it contacted them. In fact, three of them had had no prior interest in the Batman movies at all, but had still been called. It was quite the enigma, one which was often the main source of topic on their message board.

* * *

**Review, please!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3! Enjoy!**

* * *

One day, two weeks before the movie was set to be released, a letter came for Jessica in the mail. She immediately recognized the signature scrawl upon it and excitedly took it to her room to open. She had long since learned to keep her doings from her parents, who knew that the game was contacting her but didn't know what it was asking her to do. It was doubtful they'd approve.

Sitting on her bed, legs crossed, Jessica slipped a finger under the flap of the envelope and ripped away an opening. Reaching in, the first thing she withdrew was a note, followed by—her heart leaped out of her chest—a plane ticket; a plane ticket for the sixteenth, all the way to Chicago, Illinois.

She made a noise of jubilation and quickly read the note, which told her that she was coming to Chicago to "meet the Joker" (she assumed this meant "see the movie"). Her hotel room, transportations and food, as well as an itinerary for her stay, were all taken care of. She would leave her home on July sixteenth and arrive in Chicago at 2 o'clock that afternoon. Someone would be waiting there with a car and she would be driven to a hotel where she would be able to meet and become acquainted with the rest of the Lucky Twenty. Then, at a time and date which would later be disclosed, she would have the opportunity to meet the Joker and collect her reward for being loyal to him as of yet.

The note said nothing about coming home, but she figured that would be discussed later.

She talked it over with her parents, who agreed to letting her leave, asked the rest of the men about it on the message board (they all said they had received the note and planned to come) and, finally, called Billy.

"Hello?" His voice was warm, young and slightly hoarse.

She had imagined him to sound this way from the very beginning and liked the way he spoke immediately. He'd given her his number a week or two ago, but as of yet she had not had an excuse to contact him. This new turn of events, however, made her want to share her excitement with someone in a real live conversation.

"Hey Billy," she said. "It's Jessica. You know? From the internet?"

"Jess?" Billy asked, a smile in his voice. "Wow. It's great to finally hear your voice. What's up?"

She blushed at his mild flirtation but decided not to say anything.

"Did you get the letter?"

He immediately knew what she was talking about.

"Yeah, and the ticket. You going?"

"Of course! How could I pass this up?"

Billy laughed at her enthusiasm.

"Me too," he said. "So I'll see you there?"

"Oh yeah," she replied, chuckling. "I'm so excited! I can't even tell you."

"I can hear that," Billy laughed.

They talked for a while longer, about nothing in particular. They contemplated on what their prize would be and what meeting the Joker meant and if they'd see the movie before its release date and what else they'd do in Chicago.

Jessica hung up the phone that night energized and jazzed and completely unable to fall asleep.

* * *

On July sixteenth, Jessica boarded a plane to Chicago. The ticket was coach, and her parents joked that it was disappointing she hadn't received one in First Class.

"Isn't this Joker guy supposed to be rich, being a criminal and all?" her dad had said, looking at the slip of paper on their way to drop her off at the airport. He gave her a look of mock-disapproval. "I don't want you hanging around him if he doesn't treat you right."

The plane ride was as uneventful as most. Relatively early in the flight, Jessica's head nodded and fell back, and she was rendered unconscious.

* * *

"We have now arrived at our destination. Thank you for flying Southwest Airlines and have a safe and pleasant journey."

Jess jolted awake as the loud voice echoed over the intercom, scrambling to unbuckle her belt and return her seat to an upright position as the rest of the passengers began to bustle by in their haste to remove themselves from the aircraft. She stood, smoothing out her wrinkled black t-shirt and adjusting her soft denim jeans, scratching her knee where the skin showed through the hole in the pants. She yawned hugely, looking out the window to the scene on the tarmac.

The sky was a cloudy grey, windy and wet, and it delivered a burst of cool air, unseasonable for this time of year, as she left the plane. She walked swiftly with her carry-on to the luggage drop, nervously biting her lip. The note had said somebody would be there to pick her up, but that ever-present stab of paranoia asked what would happen if she was forgotten? How much would that totally suck?

She collected her suitcase (large, as she wasn't sure how long she'd be staying) and stopped in the bathroom to make sure her light hair was okay and put more eyeliner on her large brown eyes. Her face was fine, she supposed, if a little pale--she was very nervous--but there was no helping the color at this point.

Gathering her courage, she left the bathroom and walked slowly down the rows of gates to the entrance of the airport, looking around widely for anyone with a sign that bore her name.

And there he stood, at the end of the long hallway: a tall, very broad man in a cheap blue suit with a balding head, sunglasses, and a five o'clock shadow. He held two signs, both with names written boldly in that same red chicken scratch from the letters she'd been receiving. One sign read "Jessica Anderson;" the other, "Billy Marsh."

"Billy?" Jessica said aloud, picking up her pace as she hurried toward the sign, her heart thumping.

Were she and Billy, from opposite ends of the country, scheduled to arrive here at the same time? That was almost too good to believe. She'd have a friend in this, to share this.

Around this time, she noticed someone on the other side of the hallway picking up his pace and hurrying as fast as her, and with just as much purpose, towards the assumed driver with the signs. She looked over and caught a glimpse of a willowy young man of average height, with a sharp, narrow face and a short, shaggy mop of light brown hair, tinged with a hint of red. He glanced over at her but no there was no hint that he recognized her; instead he gave her a roguish grin, almost flirtatious, and turned his attention back to the sign man.

This was obviously him.

Billy got there first. Jessica watched as he introduced himself and the driver nodded and put down his sign. His face stayed serious, almost grim, and she heard him remark as she drew up close to them that now they just had to wait for the girl.

"That's me!" Jessica said, stopping just behind Billy, who turned around, a huge grin spreading his features.

He was really very good looking, she was pleased to note, like the lead singer of some Indy rock band. That was his style, anyway, and his almost-feminine-yet-still-masculine facial structure complimented that. His green eyes sparkled as he came forward and gave her an unprecedented, familiar hug.

"I was wondering if the pretty girl I was racing was you!" he said, breaking away. Jessica grinned and looked down, tucking her light hair behind her ear.

"You Miss Anderson?" the driver demanded gruffly, his voice slightly slurred by what sounded like a New York accent. She nodded and he motioned to the sliding glass doors out of the building. "You two come with me then," he said, and unceremoniously ushered them outside to where a big black van waited.

Billy cast a nervous glance at Jessica when they saw the car and she shrugged, not knowing what to do. It looked so scary, so criminal. Was this all part of the charade?

"Come on," the driver ordered, pushing Jess's back lightly in an attempt her hurry her. Billy grabbed her arm and gave it an empowering squeeze and together they climbed in to the back of the van.


	4. Chapter 4

**Alright, chapter 4. Wow! Thank you all so much for your amazing reviews! So I'm continuing today because, let's face it, I have nothing else to do. Also I think it's a fun story! **

**I SWEAR the Joker will be in the next chapter. I SWEAR. Review and I will update very soon.**

* * *

The back of the van had no windows, nor seats, so Billy and Jess sat against the wall in total darkness, rocking back and forth as they were driven down street after street. Once or twice, Jess slid to either side as they turned a sharp corner, but each time Billy caught her arm and prevented her from sliding into the wall.

Whispered thanks were all the words spoken. For some reason, Jess was a little scared to talk loudly, as if the driver would come back in a rage if he heard them. The two passengers' luggage was piled near the door and each time they veered to the left or right, Jessica heard thumps as the bags toppled off each other to join the rest of the objects rolling around the floor. After fifteen minutes, she started to get carsick.

She couldn't remember feeling more relieved than when the truck suddenly jerked to a halt and they heard the driver leave his seat and come around back to open the double doors. Light from the sun blinded them momentarily as soon as they were swung wide and Jess and Billy, blinking wildly, climbed gratefully from the van.

The driver unceremoniously threw their luggage at them from the bed of the van and pointed gruffly towards the hotel at the other end of the parking lot, telling them that they had to walk in and give the receptionist their names.

The password, he said, was "needle."

"Remember it," he muttered, slamming the doors and heading back to the cab of the van. "You'll need it."

With no more ado, he started the car and squealed out of the parking lot.

"Wait! Hold on!" Billy ran a few steps after the speeding vehicle, clutching his belongings desperately, but stopped as soon as he realized the driver wasn't going to listen to his pleas.

"Come on, then," Jess said, shrugging towards the hotel.

It was a big building, middle class, one of those chain type places. Nothing special. But the promise of the next few days blossomed excitement in her chest. Despite that creepy car ride, the rude driver, and the battering of their bags, she was optimistic that this would be awesome. They were _here_, weren't they? They were living this game.

Billy padded after her quickly, catching up and grabbing her shoulder.

"Listen, Jess," he said, eyes wide with anxiety, "I really don't know about this."

Jess laughed encouragingly.

"Oh come _on_, Billy," she said. "It's all part of the experience. Seriously, get into it!"

Billy shook his head and looked back at the way the van had left the lot.

"It's just so shifty is all," he said quietly, pushing a lock of hair out of his eyes. "You have to promise me you'll be careful. Okay?"

Jess smiled softly at him. This was really very sweet, but she _knew_ nothing bad was going on. What possibly could?

Funny how you just _know_ things, huh?

"Promise," she said, crossing her heart, "but only if _you're_ careful." Billy cast another wary glance at the hotel.

"Well, _yeah_," he said.

Satisfied, Jess started towards it again, pulling her suitcase.

By the time the two of them got inside the hotel lobby they were in lighter moods. Billy had tried valiantly halfway across the parking lot to take Jessica's heavy luggage from her, but he'd failed abysmally at carrying the bag very far. Jess laughed so hard she could barely breathe at his efforts and Billy, making a face, had dumped her luggage back into her arms. They entered the sliding glass doors and made their way to the hostess, a young woman with dark brown hair pulled back into a tight bun. She eyed them curiously, but smiled when they approached the counter.

"Do you need a room?" she asked. Jess frowned.

"Uh…" Billy said, "I don't really know…" A look of understanding crossed the woman's features and she nodded.

"Names?" she sighed, pulling out a clipboard from under a pile of papers.

"Billy Marsh."

"Jessica Anderson."

The hostess's pen traveled down the list, making two little scratch marks along the way.

"Right," she said, straightening and pushing the clipboard away. "You can leave your luggage there." She pointed to a large pile of bags in the corner behind the desk.

Once Jess and Billy had dropped their possessions, the woman cleared her throat.

"Mr. Marsh, can you follow me, please? Miss Anderson, you wait here. I'll be right back." Billy shrugged as the woman left her counter, gave Jessica a wondering look and a bracing smile, and followed her off down the hall.

Jess waited for little more than two minutes before the woman was back, without Billy. She crooked a finger in Jess' direction and escorted her down the hotel halls, to a door which opened at a stairway.

"You're the last of them," she said, a sort of appreciative tone to her voice. "I'll tell you, doing this thing twenty times in a row gets _really_ boring." Jessica laughed.

"Sorry," she said. The hostess shook her head.

"No," she replied, "I'm getting paid overtime for it. Special favor, apparently. What is this thing, anyway? Some kind of club?"

"No idea," Jessica said honestly. "I'm about to go see." She felt, for some odd reason, that she shouldn't explain anything to this woman. It had all been steeped in secrecy; she figured she should continue that tradition.

"Oh. Well. Wish I could. _I'm_ not allowed to go down," the receptionist said, a little hurt creeping into her voice.

"Sorry…" Jess said again.

The hostess shrugged.

"S'okay." She cleared her throat and glanced around, as though making sure they were really alone. When she was satisfied they were, she looked back at Jess significantly, as though what she was about to say was really important. "Miss Anderson, what's the password?"

"Needle," Jess replied quickly, a little too eager.

"Fine," the hostess said. "Go all the way down the stairs and take the first right. You'll want conference room number three. It's at the end of the hall. Good luck. Have a nice day."

With no more ado, the hostess had turned around and was walking away. Taking a deep breath, Jess started down the stairs.

* * *

A low buzz of conversation crept under the door as Jessica approached conference room number three, heart pounding in her chest. The hostess had said she was the last of them. Finally she'd be able to meet all of the Lucky Twenty!

When she opened one of the double doors, it was as though the entire room went quiet and turned to stare at her, each person's attention focused directly and exclusively upon her person. She was relatively sure they were expecting someone else, but the gazes were turned her way all the same. A blush reddened her cheeks and she waved a pathetic hand at the mass of nineteen men standing around the room.

Men, she noticed first. All men. Not one other girl was here besides her. Was there some mistake?

Then she noticed the banner stretched across the back wall, answering her question: _Silver Cloud Inn Welcomes the Lucky Twenty!_ A long table with punch and hotel cookies stood under it. No. There was no mistake here. She was in the right place.

The crowd began to murmur, the men nearest the door giving her inquisitive looks, the ones near the back craning to get a better view of her.

"Uh…" she murmured. "Hi. I'm Jessica…?"

"Jess?" Two or three of them said this in perfect unison, followed by more exclamations of familiarity or greeting.

Billy was there suddenly, standing beside her, a group of six others clustered with him.

"Jess, these are the guys from the message board," he announced enthusiastically, gesturing around. All of the men smiled warmly at her and told her their names.

For the next half hour, she met and chatted with the rest of them, learning the names of the ones she didn't know and the faces to go with the names she had already heard. There didn't seem to be any pattern to them besides that they were all men and all between eighteen and thirty. Otherwise, who they were, where they lived, what they did were as varied as their faces. The only break in this was her, who didn't fit in any of the arrangements. She was a girl. She wasn't as old as the majority of them. And she really wasn't sure she belonged here.

After a while, the hotel manager came in to tell them that their drivers were here to take them to their final destination. Murmurs and questions bombarded him immediately: why wasn't this their end point? Where were they going? Why had they come here anyway? The manager insisted that he hadn't been told a thing; he was merely doing what was asked of him. With nothing else for it, the group followed him down the hallway.

Billy kept his arm firmly around her shoulders the entire time, from the hotel to the parking lot, in which stood four vans. Five people were loaded into the backs of each, and they drove in darkness and silence.

* * *

The drive this time was longer. They sat for about thirty minutes, sliding around as they turned corners.

When the vehicle groaned to a stop there were sighs and moans of gratitude and swears that they would never ride in the back of a dark van again. They piled out quickly, into the light of day.

They seemed to be once more in the back parking lot of a building. Jess couldn't see a road, thanks to the surrounding fences, but she could hear the infrequent sounds of cars speeding by and she turned towards them, trying to find a clue as to where they were.

The area looked like it was on the outskirts of Chicago--certainly not mid-city--and she could see one sad little traffic light dangling from a single black wire above the high fences surrounding the lot. It was odd, she pondered, that going to Chicago meant going to a crappy little place _outside_ Chicago. Kind of disappointing, actually.

Suddenly, Billy whistled lowly in her ear. "Would you look at that?" he said, and she followed his stare to the enormous building here.

It took her a moment to recognize it as a theater, but a theater it was; a huge, old, obviously condemned opera house. It had been a long time, from the looks of it, since lights had graced its grand marquee, and most of the doors and windows were covered with planks of wood, nailed sloppily across. The drivers of the vans were busy unloading their luggage from a sixth vehicle and wheeling the bags on carts in through the only unbarred entrance--a metal stagehand door, almost hidden in its little niche at the side of the building. Soon enough, the group was hustled in after their luggage.

The light in the theater lobby was extremely dim, but Jess could see how this place might once have been extremely beautiful. The faded carpet was a deep scarlet, the over-lapping purple designs weaving themselves into nearly recognizable shapes. Tapestries hung on the walls and a huge crystal chandelier was suspended from the high arch ceiling which, when lit, would have been breathtaking. A musty smell hung in the air and dust floated up from the carpet each time they took a step.

Voices stayed hushed as though in reverence of this old and beautiful place, like they were in a church; eyes grazed over everything they could as they were escorted by the drivers into the doors on either side of the grand staircase to the main stage.

It was even darker here than in the lobby, and Jessica blinked rapidly, opening her eyes wide to try to catch any ray of light she could from the dim room. Vaguely visible were the outlines of velvet seats and balcony chairs and, of course, she could see the enormous hulking stage at the front of the room, where the faded red curtains still seemed to hang, moving slightly from a phantom breeze.

She shivered, huddling closer to Billy as a sudden feeling of discomfort overwhelmed her. Something was wrong here. Something was very wrong.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5! Here you go. Sort of a long one for you! Review please!**

* * *

The group stood at the back of the theater, knotted as closely together as they could get without being awkward.

No one said anything for a very long time. The air hung heavy in the silence; everyone was simply waiting. Just as Jessica had gathered up her courage and decided to ask one of the drivers what was going on, the laughs started.

They pealed from the front of the auditorium, booming, loud and sudden. Jess jumped as soon as the first cackle sounded, stretching on into a hysterical guffaw. It echoed throughout the enormous space, gaining in strength and lunacy, frenzied and a little frightening, for the source could not be possibly be stable.

Jess looked back to the drivers, whose grim faces became grimmer still at the noise. They waited in hushed anticipation as the laughter faded slowly, only broken by sudden, short lived reprises in the hilarity.

When at last the sound cut out, Jess could discern a silhouetted figure standing on the stage- the figure of a man, about six feet in height, but slouched slightly, strangely. She peered at him through the darkness, her heart thundering so loud she was sure everyone in the room could hear. Billy pulled her closer, protective and unnerved.

At that moment, the lights were raised slowly and the details of the room came into focus. She saw the chipping plaster on the walls and the rotting velvet of the seats and the worm eaten wood of the stage.

She thought she had liked it more when the lights were out, especially when her eyes traveled back to rest upon the man standing on the stage, the hints of the laughter that had just filled the room fading from his face.

The Joker. And there was no mistaking it.

Here was the Joker as she had seen him in her nightmares as a child; tall, frightening, dressed in a dirty purple suit, made up with flaking, messy white greasepaint smeared over his face. His eyes, which glinted in the raw light, were circled grotesquely by black makeup and his hair, greasy and waved, was a light green, as if he had spent too much time in a chlorine pool and not washed himself after.

But then, and perhaps worst of all, there was his mouth. Scars—jagged, raised scars—ran up from either corner of his full lips and onto his cheeks, forming a huge bizarre smile which he slathered generously in red makeup, completing the look of the clown from hell.

He grinned widely at them all, head tilted down, effectively appearing both giddy and malicious.

For a moment, no one could move.

The man on stage glanced significantly at the six drivers behind the Lucky Twenty, and the drivers immediately began prodding the group forward. Jess, looking back, let out a strangled scream when she saw that they had pulled guns out of their cases and Billy, eyes wide with fear, pulled her nearer him, pleading her with his eyes to stay quiet.

This didn't seem like an act any more. This all seemed horribly, threateningly real.

More men, five or six more, suddenly appeared from the other doorways opening into the auditorium, each packing at least one weapon.

They were surrounded. Totally surrounded.

Jessica started to panic, looking around wildly for any way to escape. Whoever this clown guy was, he was obviously insane. He had gathered them all under false pretenses, dressed up as a character from a movie and _kidnapped_ them! Jess dug her nails into Billy's back as the men herded them forward, towards the stage where the clown man stood.

As they approached, Jess marveled for a moment how similar he looked to the person in the movie; almost exactly the same, actually. The way he stood, the way he moved… Everything so closely mirrored the Joker's character in the trailers. And those scars… they looked real, too. Had he done that to himself? Was he some crazy guy who had become obsessed with Batman and fancied himself the Clown Prince of Crime?

Whatever was going on here, Jessica wished more than anything that it wasn't happening.

They were organized by the gunned men into a long line facing the stage where the Joker, or the man dressed as him, stood. Jessica was grabbed by the arm by one of the thugs and forced away from Billy, to the end of the line so that nobody stood to one side of her. She struggled as they took her; Billy tried to fight, too, but was immediately hit in the gut with the blunt end of a gun. He wheezed and doubled over and Jess fell quiet, horrified that that had happened. He had been hurt by them. If this was all a game, no one would get hurt.

The reality of the situation struck suddenly and, despite it almost being too absurd to comprehend, Jessica suddenly felt as though she was going to vomit. She gagged as the thug pushed her into line and he delivered a dizzying backhanded blow to her head, so hard she staggered as he told her harshly to "shut the hell up and stand still." Fearing more repercussions, she did so, staring up with wide eyes at the man on stage.

The Joker (even though she knew it couldn't _possibly _really be the Joker, she still thought of him that way instinctively) observed them all in the line, hands behind his back, shoulders hunched in an odd way. He turned slowly and stepped down the stairs on the side of the platform, farthest—thank God—from Jess's position. Still grinning that peculiar grin, he sauntered up to the first man, who Jess had come to know was Austin, and leaned in close.

"Uh, what is your _name_?" he asked, his voice the same as that on the phone; slightly higher pitched and scratchy, his inflections and emphases a little off—an indefinable voice, one that one would have to hear to understand.

"Austin Starling," Austin replied, in a voice that was stronger than Jess could have thought possible. She knew for a fact that if asked to speak, she would barely be able to let out a squeak.

The Joker nodded, pursing his lips, and moved on, stopping at each man in line to get their names. None of them did anything against him—nor would she, with a gun in her back and the Joker's knife to her throat—until Billy.

"And _your_ name?" The Joker was having fun with this now, she could tell, and it revolted her. He saw their fear, plain as day, and _enjoyed _it, _savored_ it.

"I'm Batman," Billy said.

Jessica froze. The Joker froze. The whole room seemed frozen in time for hours, everyone astonished at Billy's gall. _What had gotten into him? Had he not seen the guns?_

The Joker blinked, looked at the ceiling over Billy's head, and opened his mouth slightly, as though about to say something. It was still a few more seconds before any words came.

"Sorry?" the Joker asked, turning his head as though to catch Billy's words in his ear. He blinked rapidly.

"I," Billy said slowly, staring straight into his eyes. "Am. Batman."

Jess didn't really see what happened next. It was too quick. One moment, Billy was standing there, facing off to this psycho in a purple suit. The next he was one the ground, blood oozing from the cut in his cheek. The Joker looked down at him passively, raised his eyebrows and pocketed the little knife he had used. Then, as though nothing had happened, he went on to the next person.

"Who's the, uh, _lump, _there?" he asked, gesturing to Billy.

"Billy Marsh… sir," the man next to him answered respectfully, trying hard not to look at Billy's bleeding face.

"And who are you?"

"Tom Peters."

Jess felt bile rising in her throat. She couldn't remember a time when she had been more scared or angry, especially as she watched the Joker (_It is NOT the Joker!_) make his way quickly down the row. Much too soon, he was asking the man right next to her who he was, his eyes straying in her direction. She couldn't help it. She let out a quiet sob as he turned to her, but hardened her expression as soon as he stepped forward.

The Joker stared at her with dark eyes, betraying the madness that consumed him, his ghastly smile widening as he paced, hunched over, to stand in front of her, leaving no room for personal space. He craned his neck and tilted his head, searching for something in her eyes; she thought it might be fear but he didn't show any signs of disappointment upon only seeing disgust and defiance. Instead, a low giggle escaped his throat.

"And _this_…" he said in that strange drawl, "must be Jessi!" His giggle jumped an octave in pitch. "Our _only little girl_." He punched each word with surprising emphasis, fingers flicking at every syllable. His hand was large but thin, gloved in white kid leather and Jess was momentarily distracted by it, by the jerky movements it made and the way his fingers danced to emphasize his words.

He was flamboyant but spiky, just as the character of the Joker dictated, and although she wanted to hate him and have nothing to do with his lies and tricks, with his obsession with a fictional character, with the way he had spun them into his web, she was interested in him despite herself; in his story, his mind. Why did he wear makeup? Was he really just a goon who liked comic books? Where were the scars from? Who was he _really_?

And then… And then there was this awful thing, this realization, this knowledge that made her sick inside: she saw that he might have once been handsome. She saw that his eyes were really kind of beautiful, his mouth was full and, despite the scars, very nice, and his body…

No! Absolutely not. No. Attraction wasn't something a woman could help, but she refused to let it grow past this interest in the way he moved and spoke, the things he said and the way his mind worked. She was _terrified_ of him. She wanted to scream and run away from his intense but apathetic gaze, the lack of pity or compassion in which was frightening and horrible.

But, at the same time, a part of her wanted from the very first to get closer to him, to understand him, to get him to like her.

She sneered at him as he bent closer, examining her face, eyes flicking in an unsettling way from her eyes to her lips to her body back to her eyes; sizing her up, trying to figure her out and _succeeding_. That was the scary part. Simply by looking at her for two minutes, she was fairly sure he could already read her with incredible ease.

The men around them started to shift uncomfortably. The Joker had stood there staring at her for too long, much too long. A tiny sneer curled the corner of his lip and he glanced to the side at them in annoyance, then immediately returned his attention to her when enough of them had fallen quiet under his gaze.

"Listen," he said, staring into her face, his features way too close, but she refused to look away or turn her head. "This is what _I'm_ gonna do for _you_." He licked his lips and looked skyward, choosing his words. "I _know_ this must be hard for you," he grinned, "I can see that in your _eyes_. So I'm gonna give you a little gift. That… That's just the kind of guy I am. I'm allowing you, as you are the only female in this building, to have your own room. The better to protect your _privacy_." He tilted his head, eyes reflecting a sort of crazy mock-concern. "Does that help whatever _crisis_ you're going through here, _Jess_?"

"No," Jessica's voice shook as she answered. "No. I'm… I'm not staying here."

"Oh yeah," the Joker nodded, voice shaking on the edge of a laugh. "Yeah. You _are_, Jess."

His hand floated up and lightly touched her shoulder, fingers sliding down the length of her arm before Jessica jerked away from him violently, turned her back on him, and ran as fast as she could toward the exit.

The Joker's insane laughter echoed through the auditorium as she booked it out of there. When she was at the door, she heard the laughter pause for a moment as he sardonically declared, "Ooh! I think she _likes_ me!"

His cackling resumed as she opened the heavy theater doors and slammed them on the awful noise.

* * *

In the playhouse, the Joker had calmed down. He was still turned toward the door the girl had left through, really unable to believe her pluck. He didn't let his surprise register on his face, however, and after a moment looked back to his men.

"Go get her," he ordered, flicking a finger towards the entrance. Three thugs immediately dispatched themselves and the Joker turned back to the remaining members of the Lucky Twenty. The one he had cut was glaring at him, bloodied hand against his face, and the Joker gave him an ironic smile.

"See, you can't _act_ like that," he said to the room at large, meaning the girl. "Or, uh, that…" He flicked a hand towards the bleeder. "If you act like that, people will get _hurt_." The men looked at each other nervously, a few muttering things under their breath. The Joker ignored them. "Listen. All I want is for you to follow my rules. You do that, you'll be _fine_." The men were silent, but he knew they accepted. Their lack of riot told him so. "Okay."

He took a slow breath and looked up, then turned slowly on the group and paced into the shadows, knowing his thugs, the men who already worked for him, the ones the Lucky Twenty would soon be replacing, were already leading the newcomers to their rooms backstage, rooms that had been converted into apartments for these people.

He was building an army of the best, small enough to control, large enough to inspire fear. The decision had been made on a whim and he had concluded that twenty was perfect. The girl was vital, he knew. He didn't know why, but she _was_. And he was _not_ going to let that go.

It was all a game… like poker. And that little girl was the ace up his sleeve.

Sure, there were rules to the game. _His _rules, actually. That's what made it _his_ game.

His rules. But he never said he wouldn't break them.

* * *

Jess burst through the emergency exit door in the lobby of the theater, old metal screeching as she flung it wide from the latch. She shut her eyes, expecting the bright light of the sun she had left just twenty minutes ago.

No sunlight permeated her eyelids, however, so, confused, she slowly blinked them open.

Darkness. It was _much_ darker that she had left it. Startled, Jess looked up at the sky to see deep blue and black, twinkling with stars. How long had she been in that theater?

A car honked and she jumped, turning towards the sound. There was nothing recognizable to her from earlier. The fences and quiet road seemed to have vanished and in their place was a busy, mid city arterial, with cars lined up down the block at a red light. Skyscrapers split the skyline—structures that, earlier, Jess was positive had not been there.

She turned around to look back at the building she had just left. It was still a theater house, but the exterior was much different than the one she had entered.

A rush of blood hit her head and she staggered, suddenly dizzy as she realized that she was in a completely _different city_ than the one she had been in twenty minutes ago. Not only that, but it was night time here.

She turned around woozily on the spot and suddenly saw an old newspaper clipping taped to the large front window of the theater—BUILDING CONDEMNED, it read. But the thing that had taken her interest, the thing that made her mind race and her head spin, was the name of the newspaper: Gotham Times.

Gotham. The Joker. Night time. New buildings. What was happening? The Joker! Gotham!

Jess heard the thugs who were chasing her clang open the door as though through distant ears. She only vaguely felt their arms around her, dragging her back inside, before she fell against them in a dead faint.


	6. Chapter 6

**Oooh chapter six! I hope you like it. More Joker very, very soon, I promise.**

**Review please!**

* * *

"Jess… Hey… Jess… Wake up, please…"

On some level, she knew she was dreaming. But it scarcely mattered to her at the time; Jess couldn't remember a time when she'd been more comfortable and content. She was in a quiet place where a light breeze blew across her face to cool and refresh her. She was wrapped in smooth, draping silk which kept her pleasantly warm.

"The kid can sleep…"

Everything was soft white and translucent. She sat there happily, thinking of nothing but how comfortable she was.

"What the hell's taking so…"

Suddenly, too suddenly to really register, a shadow fell over the place and the atmosphere changed drastically. The light breeze turned into a gusting gale. The whiteness turned dark. The soft silk pricked into her skin. She was cold. Dreadfully cold. And scared. And alone.

"Transition's been hard…"

"Can't blame her for…"

"Just tell me when she…"

Then the laughing started. It filled her head, echoed in her brain; behind her eyes, across her forehead. It was tangible, but unpleasantly so. She could taste and smell it. She could feel it. And the force behind it was the one she dreaded meeting.

"Never seen one go so long…"

"What'd they do? Knock her…"

Smiles and laughing faces rushed at her from the darkness, cruel and malicious. Evil, even. They came, faster and faster, until they blended into one huge white blur, which grew its own monstrous grin. Jess felt that she was going to die looking at it.

"This is getting bad…"

"Maybe she's, like, in a…"

"Is this all stress induced or is…"

"Like I said! Transitions like this are harder on…"

The huge smiling mouth stretched wider and wider until it could literally engulf her, then raced at her. Jessica threw her head back and screamed…

And woke up.

Jess sat up suddenly, straight into the arms of the man sitting beside the cot on which she'd been laid, fully clothed, drenched in cold sweat. She recoiled immediately, completely unaware of where she was or who had been holding her.

"Jess!" the man said, his arms still stretched out wide to catch her again.

She blinked and looked blearily into his face, but for a moment he wasn't recognizable. A wave of disorientation swept over her and for a moment she was close to passing out again. But then, suddenly, the man's features clicked in her memory and she narrowed her eyes.

"Billy?" she asked weakly, her voice hoarse and dry for some reason.

The handsome, auburn haired guy sighed, shoulders relaxing hugely, obviously relieved, and instantly reached for the paper cup filled with water on the floor beside the cot. He held it out for her, forcing her to drink, and when Jess opened her mouth to take a sip she felt her dry lips crack at the strain and start to bleed. She put a hand to them.

"What the hell…?" she croaked, looking at the blood glistening on her fingers.

"Three days," Billy said wearily.

"What?"

"That's how long you've been out. Three days."

Jess blinked at him as the words slowly sunk into her sleep-fogged mind.

"I'm sorry?" she said, her mouth slack, unable to move. "Th… Three?"

Billy nodded grimly.

Jess swallowed and fought to breathe as she struggled with this. Finally, unable to voice anything, she mouthed, "How?"

Billy shook his head and touched the hand in which Jessica held the cup, directing her to drink from it again.

"The boss said you might be fragile. He said some people handle this whole… coming here differently than others."

"I'm sorry," Jess said, staring at Billy in disbelief. "The boss?" Billy looked down at his hands, folded in his lap, and Jess straightened in bed, dropping the water cup on the dirt stained wood floor. "Billy," she said lowly, "please tell me you're not talking about…"

"What else are we gonna do?" Billy asked, looking up at her with pleading eyes. "Huh? We sure as hell can't run. This… this isn't our city. This isn't our world, here, Jess. He, at least, offers some kind of protection."

Jess decided to ignore that, or at least hope he meant it figuratively. Despite the observable clues, she couldn't believe _any _of this was… real. She shook her head forcefully.

"Fight," she replied, her voice a little stronger but still wavering. She couldn't believe she was waking up after three days and immediately having this conversation. She could hardly _think_ right now! "There're twenty of us, Billy. We can fight."

Billy, however, was shaking his head before she neared the conclusion to her statement.

"You haven't seen what he can do, Jess," he said. "I'm so glad you've been asleep…"

"Screw being asleep!" Jess cried. "I hate not knowing what's going on!"

"I'm trying to tell you!" Billy exclaimed. "We've got nothing here, Jess."

"No," Jess said, refusing to let the beginnings of nausea in her stomach distract her. "No, that's not true."

"Yes!" Billy said. "Yes. It is. Some… Most of the others are already…"

"What?"

"Well… Loyal is a bad word…"

"Loyal?" Jess shrieked, throwing the threadbare blanket that covered her lap to the floor. "To that freak in the clown makeup?" Billy launched himself at her, covering her mouth with his hand and casting a worried glance back at the door to the room.

"Shut up," he said, eyes wide with fear. "You do not want him to hear you say something like that."

"He thinks he's the Joker, Billy," Jess whispered forcefully, also glancing anxiously at the entrance. Billy's dread had rubbed off on her in a moment.

She looked around, trying to find a way to escape without having to go through the door, but there was nothing in the room but the cot, a large wooden box on the floor (presumably meant for clothes) and a single light bulb dangling from the ceiling. The floor was scum covered wood and the walls were simple white washed plaster. It looked a bit like a large closet or an old prop room which, given that she thought they might still be in that theater, it probably was.

"You still don't get it?" Billy asked, frowning at her. "Jess… You know… You saw where we are…"

Suddenly, Jess wanted to cry. Billy looked so grim, so real, and she thought that, even though she didn't want to accept it, she knew deep down that this was no dream.

"Billy," she whispered, leaning back against the wall behind her, "there is no way… I mean… Gotham City, Billy."

"Yes."

"Like in… in Batman."

"Yeah."

"Like in comic books. In movies!"

"Really, I guess," Billy said, "what's the difference between their world and ours?" Jess's breath hitched and she let tears roll down her cheeks.

"Their world isn't _real_, Billy!"

"I guess you're wrong," Billy said. "I guess we were all wrong."

She stared at him as he looked down at his lap again. Something had changed there. He seemed so broken, so resigned and yet simultaneously so… hardened. A lot had happened over the three days she was inexplicably out, she could tell. But what had? She despised not knowing.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she demanded. He stared at her for a moment. "Billy, help me out! I hate playing guessing games!"

"I'm trying to tell you!" Billy cried. "We're not where we were, we're not _who_ we were… Things have happened that I'd never thought possible. We are _in_ Gotham City. We are, like, living a comic book."

"That's crazy!"

"Yeah," Billy agreed. "I guess the world goes a little crazy sometimes."

"No," Jessica said. "No, Billy. _People_ go crazy. Like that man who goes around wearing clown paint and kidnapping twenty people and talking like Heath Ledger. _That's_ crazy!"

Billy's eyes snapped up to meet hers, and in that moment she saw so much emotion that she froze for a second. He was bordering on wild, she saw, and she wondered how much effort it took him to stay in his seat.

"Jessica," he said, his voice so serious it was frightening, "you _have_ to get this through your head. He is _not_ messing around here…"

"I know! He's insane!"

Billy shook his head slowly.

"No. And I'm not messing around either. That man… The man who brought us here, with the makeup and the clothes… He _is_ the Joker. The _real_ Joker, Jess. And that is not a lie."

Jess stared at him for a second, slack jawed, unsure whether or not he'd really said that. But there was nothing on his face to tell her that he was less than completely serious.

"You're kidding."

"Do I _look_ like I'm _kidding_?" Billy jumped up, pushing the chair away from under him, startling Jess. He pointed to his own face where, she now saw in the light of the naked bulb, a long scab was forming over a nasty looking cut. "_This_ is not a joke!" he said. "That guy out there is the real-as-all-holy-hell Joker, Jess. The one. And this is Gotham. And, whether or not you want to believe it, we're here! So just accept it and we'll have a lot less trouble from you."

He had been yelling and Jess was cowering away from him. She'd never known him to be like this, as short a time as she had been acquainted with him, so it was so much scarier than if it had been predictable.

He stared at her for a second, took a deep breath, and turned slowly towards the door.

"Sorry," he said as he reached for the knob. "I'm really glad you're awake. Boss says you should come out when you're ready. Bathroom's down the hall. Don't try to… like… escape, Jess. It'll just cause more pain. I don't want you hurt." All this was said with his back to her in the gravest, saddest tone she'd ever heard. "I want to protect you," he said. "Don't make it difficult." With that, he opened the door and left.

It took Jess more than a few moments to compose herself and trust her legs to keep her steady, but when she was ready she climbed out of the cot and stood for a long time, looking around her little cell. Frustrated, desperate tears leaked out of her eyes and, for the first time since coming here, she really let herself cry, standing in the center of the room and sobbing helplessly into her hands as she wondered what the hell she was going to do. Even Billy—who, despite the little time she had known him, she'd thought of as an ally in all of this—had told her to just give up and accept it.

Not even he was going to help her. She wondered, still, if anyone would.

The next feeling Jess experienced, besides sadness and desperation, was a deep, aching hunger. She put a hand to her growling stomach even as she bawled, realizing that she must not have eaten the three days she was asleep. Of course not. How could they have fed her?

Her stomach growled again, this time almost painfully, and she dried her tears slowly, deciding to brave the unknown of whatever was beyond this room in the search for food. She opened the door and looked out to a long, wooden hallway, pretty standard for that of an old opera house.

She turned around and looked at the long worn sign on her door. Sure enough, the plaque read "Props."

_That's fantastic_, Jess thought dryly. She shook her head and turned, trying to decide where she would most likely find some chow and, more importantly, where she would be most _un_likely to run into the Joker. She chose left.

Backstage was deathly silent; there were no signs of any life besides footsteps in the layer of dust on the ground. When Jess saw an emergency exit, she ran towards it and tried to force it open, but found it had been barricaded or the locks broken somehow. No amount of force would work and she was scared to make too much noise trying, so after a while she left it, continuing her hunt for food.

Upon turning the next corner, Jess heard voices farther up the way—familiar, pleasant voices—and she quickened her pace towards them, a little frantic for company. Being alone here was eerie.

She came upon them suddenly, the shadows dissipating in the light of a little lamp on a table right by another exit; two men, both members of the Lucky Twenty, playing cards.

"Jessica!" one of the men, she remembered his name was Keith, exclaimed.

"Sleeping beauty awakes," said the other, whose name she had forgotten, with a large smile. They didn't set down their cards.

"Hello," she said warily, glancing at the door. Keith followed her gaze.

"Nope," he said, "you can't go through here. Sorry."

Jess looked down at him, frowning.

"Come on…" she whispered. "Just let me out."

The men glanced at each other grimly.

"Sorry, kiddo," the other man muttered, his face softening as he looked at her. "No one wants to hurt you. You'll be okay."

"I don't want to stay here!" Jess said, feeling tears prick at her eyes again.

"And we don't want you to die," Keith said. "Believe me, if we let you go, between the boss getting angry and the other thugs on the street around here, chances are you'd get hurt."

"Let me out, please… I'll take my chances..."

"Boss wants to see you," the other man said, ignoring her last statement and pointing off down the hall. "He's in the green room, I think."

"Sounds right," Keith agreed, taking a card from the pile and adding it to his fold.

Jessica could tell they were avoiding talking about her escape, but the sadness in their eyes told her that they _wanted_ to help. They just didn't know how. She wondered if she could try to fight them, but two to one didn't seem like the odds were good. When she looked down and noticed they both had large guns, that plan flew out the window.

"You could just let me out," she said softly. Keith snorted.

"I've got way too much survival instinct for that," he said. "The boss is in the green room. You should probably go to him."

And the two pointedly returned to their game, signaling that the conversation was over. Jess sighed, cast one last forlorn look at the way out, and left down the hall, determined to meet her fate. There was nothing else she could do now.


	7. Chapter 7

**Heya! I just realized how long this story is going to be... Probably pretty long. I feel like this is the first chapter that's not just introduction and set up.**

**To clarify: Yes, this will be a romance with the Joker. Very much a romance. He's just so pretty... I wouldn't call Jess a second Harley Quinn but almost. I don't really like Harley very much (no offense to all you HQXJ fans out there) so the comparison bothers me. Her role with be similar but her character is very different. I think I said something like that in Chapter 1.**

**There is much Joker here... I hope his speech is okay. I figure, he's not a man of few words, but he IS a man of short sentences.**

**There's cursing in this chapter, probably to be followed by more. If it bothers you, sorry, but we are dealing with people who would have no problems with using profanity. I don't either. It won't be enough to change the rating to M, probably. I'll restrain myself.**

**Thanks for the reviews! I love them! Have I mentioned how much I love reviews? Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

The green room door sat in a shadowy niche about halfway down the next hallway, and Jess found it immediately, almost as if the force behind it was a magnet and she was drawn to it like a needle.

_Force? Magnet?_

She hardly knew the man and already she was assigning him metaphors, putting this murderer on a pedestal. Despite her interest in the comic book Joker and how cool he looked in the movie, she had to remind herself that his role was that of villain and she had decidedly never approved of hurting innocent people. He was foul and evil, she told herself.

Sighing, banishing all thoughts of his "_force_" or "_magnetism,_" Jess opened the door.

It was dark in the room—the only illumination cast by a flickering television set—but Jess was able to make out the form of a long couch in front of the TV and a table and chairs further back. She thought there might be a refrigerator here, too; she saw its hulking shape near the back wall and heard its low electric hum.

A low chuckle came suddenly from a figure on the couch, a figure her eye hadn't immediately caught, but now, adjusting to the darkness, she could see fairly well.

He was sitting—legs spread, feet planted firmly outward—facing the door, his long fingered hands resting on his thighs, the left tapping out an agitated pattern. His neck and shoulders were characteristically hunched and he looked up at her, smiling, the paint on his face glowing in the dim light. Jess stopped in the doorway to survey him, mouth grim, trying to act as fearless as she possibly could but unable to help the shiver of anxiety race up her spine. He wasn't wearing his jacket or vest but she could see them draped over the arm of the sofa.

She glared at him. He smiled at her. Nothing was said for a very long time.

"Morning… _sunshine_." When he finally spoke, she jumped at his strange voice. His smile widened. "How was your nap?"

Jessica's mouth clenched. Whatever had made her sleep for three days was nothing to _joke_ about, and she suddenly felt very angry with him.

"What do you want with me?" she snapped abruptly, too loudly. God, she knew she was going to get herself killed, and soon, if she couldn't keep her mouth under control.

The Joker raised his eyebrows and kept his voice light.

"_You_?" he said, giggling slightly. "What do I want with _you_?"

"That's what I said."

He glanced up at her, an irritated look in his eyes. She was getting on his nerves, being curt like this, and even though she knew doing so was very dangerous, she couldn't help herself. She still couldn't shake the feeling that this was all a dream.

"I thought I explained _clearly_…" The Joker muttered, the last syllable stretching on in a breath. "People don't _listen_ like they used to."

"You're not joking, then?" Jess asked, and then closed her eyes as the Joker started chuckling lowly, tauntingly, at the prospect of his _joking_.

She let him go on for a minute, then raised her voice over his dry "Ha. Ha. Ha's."

"I just want to go home. Please."

The Joker stopped laughing and glared at her silently.

"That… uh… That's really just _impossible_, Jess," he said, obviously pleased to be relaying such bad news.

"Why?" Ugh! Why were tears so easy to shed today? She really didn't want to cry in front of this man.

"Why?" The Joker said in a laugh. "_Why_? A few _good_ reasons. C'mere."

The order was short, curt, and Jessica stood, still hovering in the doorway, for a long time. Finally, the Joker leaned forward and stared at her compellingly.

"I _said_ come _here_." There was a warning in that phrase and Jess was much too afraid of what might happen if she didn't obey, so she hesitantly stepped a few feet forward, letting the door swing shut behind her. The Joker smiled as he watched her approach.

"Closer," he ordered. She didn't move and he shut his eyes for a moment, as if silently exasperated with her. "_Closer_." It was a snarl this time, ripping out of his throat, and it made her jump. She scrambled nearer him and he stood up slowly, examining her all the time.

"What we have here," he began, pacing up to her, neck outstretched and shoulders hunched, "is an example of… transformation; _change_, Jess, in _you_. Call it a… social experiment. I've seen just how quickly _fear _and _prospect_ can change people. Quick. Three days." He snapped. "Like _that_. Y'see, people like the boys out there," he motioned vaguely to the greenroom door, "they're easy to _mold_. Add a little spice to their lives, mix in some guns and a few threats, and these, uh…" he cleared his throat, "_regular_ people become something _new_ with very little effort. Put them all together and you've got a _real_ powerhouse of loyalty to their creator." He put a hand on his chest. "That would be _me_. _You_, though…"

He shook his head and paced closer, once again completely disregarding personal space as he brought his hands up around his face, curling them into loose balls as if he wanted to touch her but was preventing himself from doing so. "_You_ struck me as the kind of person who would resist to that. You _are_, aren't you, Jess?"

She didn't make a move to respond, but that didn't bother him. He reached forward and quickly grabbed her chin, hard, perhaps hard enough to leave marks. She immediately started to struggle away, but he jerked her towards him, a knife suddenly appearing in his other hand, speaking directly at her face. She could feel his hot breath on her visage as he continued.

"Listen." She struggled once more and he pulled her back to him. "Hey. Listen to me. You think you can beat the inevitable, don't you? But I've _seen_ what you'll do for me, what you already did before you even thought this was _real_. You _stole_ for me. You lied and cheated." He paused a long moment, looking right into her eyes. "What makes you think… you're going to back out of it now?" His giggle was high pitched and jarring.

Jess stiffened as he said that, his words ringing some truth in her. God, she felt like a puppet. He was orchestrating everything without even making her _do_ anything and the craziest part of it all was that his whole speech was actually making a bizarre kind of sense to her. It interested her.

He was smart. She understood that now. Crazy, maybe. Brilliant? Yes. Scary? As all holy hell.

"You've got this misplaced sense of righteousness here," the Joker went on. "Pride, too… You wanna know something?" He leaned forward furtively and said the next thing right in her ear. "It's not gonna do you any good."

She could smell him, now. He smelled like gasoline, matches, old paint and some strange masculine cologne, maybe days old. It wasn't unpleasant. Under different circumstances it might have been attractive.

Hadn't she promised herself she wouldn't think of him that way?

"Leave those old values behind," the Joker said, pulling back to look her in the eyes again.

The hand with the knife was now resting on the small of her back to keep her in place, and she was very aware of it there, of how close their bodies were. She'd have liked to move away but… well, he _was _the one with the weapon.

"They're not gonna get you anywhere with me. They might even _reverse_ the forces keeping you healthy." He licked his lips, tongue flicking out shortly to each side, and looked upwards, choosing his next words. "Listen. I'll make you a _deal_." He looked at her with raised eyebrows and she nodded fearfully. "You do what I say, I don't hurt the others. Sound good?"

Ouch. He knew where to hit her where it hurt. Of course she wouldn't let anyone else die because of something stupid she did. Of course she'd obey the crazy guy with the knife. Maybe, if she was smart, everyone would get out of this alive. She didn't know how the movie ended, after all.

"Uh huh," she squeaked, nodding.

The Joker looked at her long and hard, as though trying to decide whether or not to do something. Then, smiling and looking up to the ceiling, he pushed her away from him roughly. She fell to the floor, but scrambled up immediately, assuming conveniently that she was dismissed. She raced for the door, threw it open and looked back at him for a moment. He had turned his back on her, his hands placed on his head casually, fingers interlaced.

She slipped through the door, heart racing so hard she felt she would break. She leaned against the wall in the corridor, trying to slow her adrenaline, his last words echoing in her head.

_"You do what I say, I don't hurt the others."_

That meant if she tried to escape, people could die.

Jess's knees buckled and she was on the floor, sobbing again.

* * *

Footsteps thundered down the hall, heavy on the hardwood floors, and Jess shrank back against the wall behind her, not wanting to find out who was approaching. She had crawled away from the ominous greenroom door, into the shadows where it was less likely she'd be seen showing weakness like this. The last thing she wanted was for the Joker's laugh to echo again in her ears, mocking her.

"Oh, shit, Jess…"

She looked up with tear filled eyes at the figure that knelt above her, reaching up weakly to guard herself with her arms. She was on edge, jumpy at every little movement. The Joker had made it very clear where the men in this building's loyalties were and she felt that the best thing to do now would be to stay out of their way and hope they just leave her alone.

That wasn't going to work, it seemed. It seemed some of them still cared.

She could hardly believe that they were on the Joker's side. A "powerhouse of loyalty" he'd said. God if that didn't hurt.

"What happened?" asked another voice, this one coming from someone standing behind the guy kneeling before her. He carried a lamp to cast away the darkness of the hallways back here, but it was blinding her. She couldn't make out who they were.

"Wild guess," the kneeling one said. She recognized his voice. Billy.

"Wild _card_," a new voice added. There were three of them. That damned light! She couldn't see anything but silhouettes. And the crying wasn't helping. She lifted a hand to shield her eyes as she felt Billy's hand on her face, wiping away the tears.

"Good one," the second man snorted, then directed his attention back to Jess. "Jess, I don't know if you remember me, but I'm Andrew. This here's Blake." Jess assumed he meant the other standing silhouette.

"Drew, turn down the goddamn lamp," Blake said. "You're burnin' the kid's eyes out."

"Oh! Right."

Immediately the light was dimmer. Jess lowered her hand and found Billy's face, right in front of her, absolutely brimming with concern.

"You okay, Jess?" he asked, pushing her hair behind her ear. Oh! Now he was being all _nice_! Jess turned away from him.

"Course she's not okay!" Blake exclaimed. "Keith told me she went right into that greenroom. Takes balls. You remember _your_ first one on one with the ol' clown?"

"Boy, do I," Billy said, glancing back at Blake with a half-grin. "Nearly had a heart attack. What'd he say, Jess?"

Jessica stared at him blankly for a moment. How could he think they were friends again, after all she had heard? She would stay here for these guys' lives but they were kidding themselves if they thought she wanted to be close with any of them. Criminals. All of them.

Billy sighed.

"She mad at you?" Drew was a big, dark skinned man of about 25 with powerful looking biceps and a glittering white smile. He had really kind eyes. Dammit! Why'd they all have to have such kind eyes?

_Because they were normal people before this_, Jess's inner voice said. She blocked it out.

"I guess," Billy replied. "I yelled at her when she woke up."

"Jerk." Blake kicked Billy lightly with a big black booted foot. He was tall and thin, with peroxide blond hair and an angular face. He might have been good looking but for the long scar stretching down the left side of his face, over his eyebrow, deforming one of his eyes. Well… Perhaps Blake hadn't been _completely_ normal before, Jess thought. He still seemed like a reasonably good person.

She felt a flash of rage at the Joker for ruining him.

"Why'd you yell at her?" Drew asked.

"She wouldn't believe…" Billy said, looking down, an ounce of shame in his eyes. "I got frustrated."

"Bet she gets it now," Blake murmured, looking back at the green room door.

Jess decided to speak for the first time.

"I get it," she said, her voice a little hard. "But I can't understand _any_ of you."

The three men shared meaningful looks.

"I know," Billy said softly, once more trying to smooth her probably very ratted hair.

She let him, a little taken by how sweet his eyes were.

"When some of them started doing what he said, started calling him _sir_ and _boss_, I couldn't understand it either. I hadn't seen what he could do. I hadn't talked to him. But then I went through what you just did and I got it. Every time someone talks to him face to face, _mano a mano,_ he seems to come out on top. Compared to the rest of us, you're handling this differently. How is it you're retaining yourself?" His green eyes searched hers, looking for some answer. Jess shrugged.

"I guess he didn't say the right thing," she whispered. "At least… not the thing that would have made me his henchman." The three men laughed suddenly at her use of the word. She glared at them and looked away, pouting. "Or whatever…" she muttered.

"No, I guess that term's applicable," Billy said, still chuckling. "I've just never thought of it that way."

"Me neither," Drew said in his deep baritone. "I kind of like it."

"The Lucky Twenty:" Blake said, nodding, "the Joker's henchmen." All three of them laughed again.

Jess still couldn't quite grasp how they were so pleased to be here, so accepting, so okay with the fact that they were just kind of criminals now. The idea was totally alien to her.

But they obviously weren't about to hurt her—Billy's soft hands told her so—and she desperately needed friends to help her through this, so she decided to go back on her original plan to isolate and hide herself. As long as she wasn't asked to do anything bad, she could at least spend _time_ with these guys, have friends in all of this. She wouldn't lose herself to it.

Funny, how promises to oneself go so awry.

"You cool to stand, Jess?" Billy asked her, noticing immediately when her face lost its guarded look and she made eye contact with him. She nodded.

"We need to get you new clothes," Drew said.

"Don't you have to _pee_?" Blake asked brazenly. "I would if _I _had slept for three days."

Jessica laughed and nodded sheepishly.

"Come on, then," Billy said, pulling her up slowly. She waited for a burst of dizziness to hit as she got to her feet—something that happened often when she had been crying—but felt none. It seemed like a good omen. Blake threw an arm around her shoulder.

"Damn, you could be a pretty thing if you weren't so rumpled looking," he told her. Jess elbowed him.

"We'll get you fixed up," Drew said kindly. "Then we can go hang out with the rest of them."

Jessica smiled as they walked down the hall. She felt safe now, so completely opposite of how she had felt when she had gone in to meet the Joker. Somehow she was glad that she had decided to fold herself in with these men, especially if escape was out of the question. Everything was not great, everything was really scary. But, for now, as she walked down the hall with three well meaning friends, everything was kind of okay.


	8. Chapter 8

**Wow I'm so fast! I've been obsessed with this story. Every time I'm bored I just sit down and crank out a new chapter. Also, I found the Dark Knight script on the internet! It's like having the movie without actually having the movie!**

**I wrote this chapter while listening to the song "Down in a Rabbit Hole" by Bright Eyes. Check it out!**

* * *

Jessica was proud of herself. She didn't cry once during the entire shower.

When she stepped out of the rust stained cubicle and into the steamy bathroom, she avoided looking at herself in the mirrors that lined the wall. She'd caught a glimpse of herself when Billy had opened the door to the women's room before she had washed and she didn't want to face such a horrible truth. Her hair had been absolutely appalling, ratted and tangled and piled on her head, exactly as she had expected it to look after three days of sleep. That problem was solved with the cheap shampoo/conditioner combo and the comb Billy had lent her. Her makeup had been smeared and runny, but that, too had been solved.

Her eyes and skin were the problems.

She turned to the mirror slowly, deciding at last to face her fate. This theater came complete with a women's locker room, so at least she didn't have to do this in front of a bunch of guys.

She gazed at herself with disgust, a little embarrassed that so many people had seen her like this, especially before the shower, with that rat's nest on top of her head. Her eyes had deep purple circles around them and they had this sunken, sickly appearance to them. She looked pale and anemic and unhealthy, probably from eating nothing these past few days. Her lips were cracked from a lack of water and her eyes were slightly unfocused. She needed some fuel, and fast, or she would faint. The heat from the shower was making her head light. She had to get out of the bathroom.

Jess glanced at the dirty heap of clothing in the corner and silently thanked Billy for the robe he had given her along with the soap and comb. It was bare and basic, but at least she felt clean.

She threw on the heavy cotton robe, obviously designed for a male, wondering where the rest of her belongings had gotten to. She wanted more than anything to be in her own clean clothes.

Sighing, swaying a little, Jess carefully left the bathroom, breathing in deeply the rush of cold air from the hall outside. It cleared her head sufficiently and with a gentle, pleasant buzz, the dizziness was gone.

Blake was sitting on the ground across the hall, waiting for her. She smiled at his scarred face.

"You look better already," he told her, getting to his feet. He wore black, head to toe, and she noticed a silver hoop through his left ear. The rocker type, she figured. Heavy metal. He looked hardened.

"Thanks," Jess smiled and Blake threw her a plastic garbage bag, filled with what felt like fabric.

"Your clothes," he explained. "The ones you're allowed to keep. That is, no sharp metals or concealed pockets."

"Did _the boss_ come up with that one?" Jess asked dryly. Blake, surprisingly, shook his head.

"Nope. We did." He smiled. "Everyone's on the same level. No one can hide anything from anyone else and, while we're here, no one's a danger." Jess raised her eyebrows at this logic, but decided against arguing with him. It hadn't gotten her anywhere so far. "Go change and we'll get some chow," Blake instructed, pointing back to the bathroom.

Jess nodded, stomach growling at the mere thought of food, and headed back into the muggy bathroom.

She chose a pair of soft black skinny jeans which bunched around her ankles and an old white cotton t-shirt with "Coca Cola" emblazoned across the front. She found the only pair of shoes they had left her with, her old faded black Chucks, at the bottom of the sack and shoved them on her feet. Going back to the mirror, she shook her head so the ends of some of the layers of her medium length straight blonde hair flipped out a little, making it appear to have more body than when it was just flat and wet.

Now, all she needed to feel average was makeup… eyeliner, actually. But that, they had not given her. She went back out to Blake.

* * *

The kitchen actually doubled as the common area, a makeshift affair through a door in the lobby. Someone had plugged a mini fridge in the corner, stocked with beer and soda, and a loaf of bread and peanut butter sat on the table, with grocery bags stacked under it, still unpacked. Jess rolled her eyes. She had forgotten that she was living with men.

There were members of the Lucky Twenty lounging all over this room: some sitting on the long sofa or the floor by it, watching the TV set on low in the corner, some standing around drinking beer, others reading piles of paper which were slightly stained or burnt around the edges.

Jess made a beeline for the table, voraciously devouring a peanut butter sandwich, made and ingested in two minutes flat. Blake watched her with amusement from the door.

"Glad to see she has an appetite," one of the men drinking beer called. Jess looked up from the preparation of her second sandwich and noticed that, as per usual, all eyes were almost exclusively focused on her. She took a huge bite to avoid having to make a speech and, mouth sticky with peanut butter, she gave the room a little wave.

"Holy shit, it's the boss!" someone suddenly exclaimed, gesticulating towards the television, the volume of which was immediately raised.

A flickering image of the Joker's face smiling up at a security camera was broadcast on screen, while a passive female voice spoke over it.

"Dubbed 'The Joker,' this individual is already linked with at least three large scale robberies, including the clearing out of the Gotham First National Bank last week, during which four men apparently working for him were killed."

Jess gasped at this, looking around the room frantically, trying to count how many of them were there.

"None of us," Blake comforted her, walking up behind her and stroking her still wet hair. Jess sighed in relief.

"It should be assumed that he is armed and extremely dangerous, and under no circumstances should he be approached…"

"So _un_flattering..."

Jessica tensed at the familiar voice, shivers running through her body as she turned to look back towards the entrance of the room.

"These, uh, _media monkeys _will do anything to make me _look_ bad." The Joker moved through the room, everyone watching him warily, ready to obey him or get out of his way. He was fully garbed in his purple trench coat, ready to go out for a night on the town. Jess shuddered at her own thoughts. "I mean, look at the _shots_ they use of me!" The Joker gestured towards the screen where an image of a man in a clown mask, seemingly him, gunned down another man dressed in much the same fashion. "I _know_ I take better pictures than that…"

His grinned stretched wider and he looked around, stopping momentarily when he noticed Jess.

"_You _look clean," he told her. Jess shrunk back, closer to Blake. The Joker cleared his throat, staring at her with an intense expression. "Glad you're adjusting." The words were dry and sardonic and Jess broke eye contact as soon as she could. The clown looked back to the men on the couch.

"I need…" he licked his lower lip quickly, "uh… three men to help me take _care_ of something. This, uh, _Gambol_ has a price on my head and I just wanna _squash_ out that little threat before it gets any bigger." Men shifted around as though wanting to volunteer but not sure if they wanted to do what the Joker was asking. "It won't be very _hard_," he said, closing his eyes briefly. "You just have to point a gun."

"I'll come." Jess's eyes snapped over to where Billy had stood up from the couch. She hadn't even seen him there earlier. He glanced at her with a strengthening smile and she returned his expression with a gaze of concern, which he ignored.

"Yeah…" the Joker said. "Who else?"

In the end, he chose Billy, Drew and a man named Laurence. They left the room first, while the Joker was still looking around as though trying to decide whether or not he wanted more for this little mission. Finally, he turned back towards the door. Jess sighed in relief as he started for it, hoping he wouldn't say anything else, hoping she wouldn't have to hear that jarring voice again.

Unfortunately, just as he'd passed by her and she was beginning to think she was in the clear, he stopped and turned back to look into her eyes. Immediately finding alarm therein, he grinned, pleased that he was able to cause such panic.

Her body screamed at her to just run, get the hell out of there, but he was fingering a knife in his hand and she didn't know what he'd do. Jess felt Blake step away from her and silently cursed him for leaving her side exactly when she needed his strength. She couldn't really say she blamed him, though. Being close to the Joker was not necessarily appealing.

"Sure you don't wanna come?" he asked her, leaning forward. "Hmm? It'll be a lot of _fun_!"

She only stared at him, wondering if he was kidding or not. What would make him ever think she wanted to go along?

He looked at her, eyebrows raised expectantly, and when she was silent he rolled his eyes. "No," he muttered.

Slowly, deliberately, the Joker raised his hand to her face, like he was going to brush tender fingertips across her cheek. Jess flinched away from him, of course, which turned out to be the wrong thing to do. In retaliation, he pressed himself closer to her, both hands jumping up to grab her face between them. She could feel the cold press of his knife against her cheekbone. He licked his lips and she squeezed her eyes closed, but opened them immediately when he gave her face a rough shake.

"You know," he said, "I find myself wondering what it's going to _take_ with you."

Jess gulped, trying to fight the urge to scream or, perhaps, vomit all over the threadbare carpet, as her eyes roamed over his sweat streaked makeup and slashed red mouth. She bit her lip when he brought her face close to his, trying not to cry out, and he noticed immediately, dark eyes flicking down to her mouth.

"Oh…" he cooed horribly. "Shh shh shh… It's okay…" His thumb ran across her lower lip and, still staring at her mouth, he leaned forward… as though he was about to try to _kiss_ her…

The thought scared Jessica, even though she knew that probably wasn't his intent, and she pulled away from him as hard as she could on impulse, stumbling back and almost falling into the couch. The Joker shrieked with laughter and made a little skip in the air as he came after her, causing her to press herself back against the arm of the sofa. She looked desperately to the men in the room but all of them seemed at a loss of what to do, wanting to help but cautious with the Joker here.

"You know," he said, moving up to her, pointing at her with the knife, "I _like_ you, but you oughta _laugh_ more. Live with a frown, die with a frown. I'm sure you've got a _beautiful _smile. C'mon. Let's see it."

He stared at her expectantly.

Looking at the knife in his hands, Jessica did the only thing she felt she _could_ do: she forced her mouth into a wide grin.

The Joker giggled with delight and clapped his hands once.

"See? Isn't that _better_?" he asked. Humoring him for the sake of her overall well-being, Jess nodded, her grin fading back to the look of fear. "You've got a knack for it, like me. A regular clown. A _jester_. _Jess-_ter." His laugh echoed through the room at his wit. "That's who you _are, _isn't it?" He reached forward and patted her face. "Talk to you tomorrow, _Jesster_."

Giggling at the name he had given her, with no more ado he turned and headed out the door.

Jess stood in place for a moment, swaying slightly. Would there ever be a time when she could be in the same room with him and not be completely light headed and terrified? There was something about him that just _got_ to her. The rest of the men here, while intimidated, didn't seem nearly as captivated by him as she was. Even while she wanted to run away and hide from him, at the same time she felt really interested in what he was saying, in his actions. His level of spontaneity surprised and frightened her. She felt he could do anything at any time, completely switch character at a word, and what she knew of his nature from the comic books supported that.

God, it was awful. Not only was he unpredictable, he was dangerous. So why did she want to watch him like she did? Why did she want to analyze him, try to _understand_ him? It just didn't make any sense.

And what the hell was with the name he had given her? _Jesster_? She'd be damned if she was going to let herself go by that.

Suddenly her focus was once more on reality and she started, having been so lost in her own thoughts that she'd forgotten where she was. She looked around the rec room and noticed that many of the men were regarding her carefully, any number of them posed to jump up and catch her if she started to fall.

"I'm fine," she croaked, forcing a smile. "Really. I am."

A few of the men relaxed, but most of the others kept watching her. Trying to make a show of being alright, even though she certainly wasn't, even though her adrenaline was sky high and her mind was racing, she went over to the table and picked up the rest of her second sandwich. Upon sniffing it, though, she realized she certainly wasn't hungry after all of that and she trashed it, instead plopping herself on the couch between Keith and Austin.

"When do you think he'll be back?" she asked them quietly. Keith shrugged and Austin gently curled her hair around his finger.

"Who can tell?" he said, looking towards the door through which the Joker had exited with Billy, Drew and Laurence. "I don't even think _he _knows."

**

* * *

**

This is important! Read it!

**Now that this chapter is up, I guess I can FINALLY tell you who Billy is. As you might've guessed, the Joker is taking Billy, Drew and Laurence to Gambol's yacht thing, in the scene in the movie when he first makes his "Why so serious" speech. If you're able to get a hold of the movie, you can see my inspiration for Billy dearest. In the scene, the Joker's men, three of them, carry him in covered in garbage bags and go to stand by the door. I think there are two African-American guys and one shorter white guy, good looking, with reddish brown hair, standing between them. Guess who!**

**I love making my own characters from extras in the movie. Billy is a prime example. Whoever that actor is, I thank him for bringing Billy to life in my mind!**

**Thanks for reading! I love you all!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A bit of a long one. Sorry this took so long compared to the others. I have been SWAMPED. Thank you so much for your reviews! Go listen to Stupid Girl by Cold. I think you'll like what you hear.**

**Um... answers... I've gotten people messaging, asking when the romance will start, and I'm kind of like... really? I cannot see the Joker throwing himself at Jess right away, can you? And regardless of how sexy he is, she's not too impressed with him, either. It's gonna take a little but it will be fairly rapid compared to what he'd be like in reality.**

**Also, I loved the comment asking which of the two others was Drew. Well, CC... The guy on the left of Billy. The other one is Laurence. Isn't naming extras fun?**

**Ten points to whoever can find and point out the play references here! :)**

**Rate and review and I'll reward you with another installment. Love you all!**

* * *

Jess couldn't sleep.

Billy hadn't come back yet and she found herself pacing around her little closet-room, anxious for him and the others. What had the Joker done with them? Why were they taking so long? What had they been doing, anyway?

It was no use.

Jess sighed impatiently and looked for the millionth time around her little room. It was past two in the morning by the battery operated alarm clock someone had placed on the ground in the corner and Jess had spent the entire day just trying to get used to being here, which entailed talking to the rest of the Lucky Twenty—and subsequently confirming her fears that they were now the Joker's men—watching TV and eating.

She'd had almost seven peanut butter sandwiches that day (the other food options included beer, cold ham, uncooked sausage, parsley, and more beer.) She told the men in charge of getting food that she was a growing girl and needed more than what they had offered in nutrition, so they wound up making her promise to come with them when they went shopping in a week's time. Jess had jumped at the chance to get out of this playhouse and see more of Gotham.

Most of the day was spent exploring the theater with Keith and Blake, which turned out to be extremely interesting. The basement and green room, apparently the Joker's private rooms, were locked and off limits, but the rest of the huge, beautiful building was open for investigation.

Three purses, filled with rotting wallets, old papers, and even a jeweled necklace or two, were found between the rusted, hole pocked velvet chairs in the auditorium. The stage still had a few props in a closet by the sound booth, including an old donkey mask, a hemp noose, and a pair of plastic, silver painted razors. Most of the backstage area, Jess came to learn, was organized in rooms much like hers, only with two or three more cots each, so that more men could sleep in them. She'd seen the lobby and spent a while playing poker over the concessions counter, had gone up in the catwalks—but without a harness felt the _opposite_ of safe—had rifled through the old costumes in a trunk in one of the dressing rooms—the rest, she assumed, were in the Joker's basement—and had played lazily with a small mouse she'd seen come out of a hole.

Amidst all this activity she'd lost track of the time and before she knew it everyone was leaving the rec room, complaining about how tired they were, and Blake had shoved her off to bed, advising her that it was probably safer for her to stay in her room for the rest of the night. You never knew when the Joker would return and what kind of mood he'd be in.

It was sensible to be prudent, Jess knew.

But when had Jess ever been one to listen to sense when _curiosity_ was so much more overwhelming?

She was bored. She was hot from the stagnant air. And she wanted to explore some more.

The stage seemed like the most obvious place to start, so start there she did.

She'd seen a trap door in the floor earlier and, as she crept down the darkened hallway, straying away from the exits where she knew guards kept watch, she wondered if it still worked.

She'd taken along the little digital clock to lend her a bit of illumination and found the backstage switchboard beside the heavy scarlet curtains, hidden in the deep blackness of the theater's immediate backstage. _There's nowhere darker than an unlit auditorium_, Jess mused as she raised the little clock and strained to see the operation buttons in the dim green glow.

Well, damn.

Jess had never been much of a techie and hadn't practiced much with working these things, especially one as old and beastly as this. The buttons were labeled with faded, peeling letters which read things like "All on" "L Forward" "Wash" and, finally, "Trap."

Closing her eyes and hoping this wouldn't turn on any lights or sound an alarm or something, Jess flipped the "trap" switch.

Gears groaned to life almost immediately and Jess looked excitedly towards the stage, where a square black hole was slowly opening in the center. She raced for it, wanting to check out the area to which she knew the trap door led—the basements. What was he hiding down there?

Stupid girl.

She jumped into the little hole while the trapdoor platform was still squealing downwards, landing on it with a solid bump that sent the entire structure into troubling little spasms, squeaking and squawking its protests to her weight. Her head dropped beneath the surface level of the stage as the lift rattled on downwards and she ducked lower, her heart pounding, trying to see everything she could in the enveloping darkness.

The stagnant smell of mold and stale fabric, rotting wood and earth, permeated her nose; she tried to avoid breathing in the heavy smell by inhaling only superficially, not allowing the oxygen to rush all the way to the bottoms of her lungs. Old sawdust drifted into her eyes from the wooden support beams crisscrossing above her as the elevator groaned to a stop at the bottom of its shaft. She was under the stage. In the basement.

Exhilaration and heart-pounding, mind-numbing fear ripped through her and she almost pressed the button on the control panel at the side of the lift to go back up, but stopped herself. She'd come this far. The Joker wouldn't be back tonight and she certainly had no loyalty towards him which would prevent her invasion of his privacy. Perhaps, if she got enough information on him, she could find a way to escape.

Jess carefully stepped down the short flight of steps at the bottom of the platform and swung her pale green light around, trying to see as much as she could down here. Since her top priority was luminescence, when she caught sight of a light switch in the corner she made a beeline for it, cautious to avoid bumping into the props and sets down scattered about. A second after flipping it, the light came on with a wavering buzz and she was able to look around.

Jess gasped.

A space had been cleared in a large section of the basement opposite her, the walls completely plastered over with hundreds of posters and pictures and newspaper clippings, each having something to do with Gotham, each scribbled on and annotated heavily. Almost every single picture of a person had a design marked over it—two heavy black circles for eyes and a red slash for the mouth, eerily mimicking the Joker's choice of face paint.

Jess slowly approached the area, staring closely at the pictures, trying to discern what about them had caught the Joker's interest.

Batman. There was one topic. And of course. Most of the articles featured in one way or another the caped crusader and those that didn't were mostly political. Harvey Dent—the name of Gotham's new District Attorney—was repeated constantly. Jess remembered the comic book episode in which he had first appeared as Two-Face; how badly he had scared her when she was a kid. She shivered. He was real, too.

The Joker had scrawled HAHAHAHA over many of the articles and Jess noticed a desk near the corner on which a pair of scissors was left abandoned in the middle of cutting pieces and words out of various papers.

She skimmed a few of the articles plastered to the wall curiously, reading what she could past the scrawling red pen, and came to the startling conclusion that most of the city disliked the Batman (he'd been outlawed three months ago), the Joker was second in importance to the mob in the eyes of Gotham PD (something Jess was sure would soon change), bands of vigilantes impersonating the Dark Knight had recently been detained and arrested—along with the Scarecrow—and Harvey Dent was inducting controversial investigations into the police department, including Jim Gordon's unit, Major Crimes. Salvatore Maroni was the suspected heir to the Falcone crime family and Bruce Wayne, since the destruction of his mansion, had been living in a penthouse near city limits.

Jess raised her eyebrows and tilted her head, taken up in this rush of information, impressed by it all. It certainly drove in the reality of this situation a little deeper, but she still had difficulty fully believing that she was suddenly in this different world. It was such an alien prospect.

Distracted by all of this, she didn't hear the footsteps tromping heavily down the stairs in the opposite corner.

"Now _what_," the Joker's voice said softly, hoarsely, from _just_ behind her, "are you doing _here_?"

Jess jumped violently as his fingers rested against her hip and, suddenly terrified, she tried to turn around, but abruptly his hands were on her, forcing her forward violently. He had her by both hips from behind, pressing her roughly towards the wall. She braced herself with her hands to keep her face from slamming into the paper covered brick as the Joker shoved her forwards, his breathing accelerated with exhilaration. A low giggle escaped him as he watched her whimper, face to the wall.

The Joker leaned forward and grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling it back sharply, making her lend him an ear as he whispered.

"I thought I _told_ you not to come down here," he said.

She shuddered and closed her eyes to try to block it out. Not receiving a response, he giggled, using the hand that was not ripping her hair from her scalp to ironically brush a wisp of bang from her face with exaggerated faux tenderness.

His body was securing hers against the wall now, his stomach warm on her back. She tried not to think about it, tried to swallow the bile that rose in her throat at the thought of him touching her, tried to calm her fluttering heart. She choked in an attempt to tell him to let her go… please… but it came out as a sort of pathetic half-squeak.

"Huh?" the Joker demanded. "What. Was. That?" He gave a tug on her hair with every word.

"P-please," Jess sobbed, "don't hurt me."

"Oh…" The Joker made a clicking sound with his tongue. "Oh, Jesster, Jesster, Jesster…" His hand seized the back of her neck and pushed her face against the wall, leaning in to whisper right in her ear, so close she could feel the brush of his lips. "You keep breaking the _rules_," he said. "How can I let you play the game if you keep breaking the _rules_?" Jess sobbed, sure now that she was going to die right here in this horrible basement, with this horrible clown's sour breath in her ears. "Y'know, I _really_ didn't want to hurt you, kid," the Joker said. "I _really_ didn't."

"Don't then," Jess pleaded quietly, lips to the papers. "Please don't. I promise, I'll do anything you want. From now on, no resistance. I swear!"

The Joker said nothing for a long time. Silence stretched on between them until, suddenly, the pressure of the Joker's hand on her neck was released and his presence behind her shifted away. Slowly, breathing shakily, Jess was able, somehow, to turn and face him.

"So _that_'_s _what it takes." He was grinning at her madly, only a little ways away, still too close for comfort. She sighed in relief. There was no sign that he was going to kill her anymore. "A threat on _your_ life and you're suddenly _so_ compliant. Hmm. That's a little selfish, don't you think, _Jess_?"

Jess frowned, irritated, and looked down.

"Sorry," she muttered.

"_Sorry_?" he asked. "_Why?_ _I'm_ impressed. You pulled out all the stops to protect _yourself_, not those…" he waved a hand distractedly towards the staircase, "_hooligans_ upstairs. You know where your interests lie. You won't play the sacrificial lamb. You _know_ better. Like _me_."

Jess felt disgust at herself boil up in her chest as he compared her to him. She wasn't as strong or generous as she'd always thought she was... At first she'd thought that her decision to stay had been born out of fear for the other men… but now she wasn't so sure. Perhaps fear for her own well-being kept her here; fear of having to make it on her own out on the streets of Gotham. Or perhaps it was a mixture of both. But in any case, it _bothered_ her that she had this survival instinct. It seemed so self-centered now.

The Joker saw her inner conflict and grinned, leaning back against the desk in the corner.

"Don't look so _disappointed_," he said. "I _like_ what you've done here."

Jess turned from his sardonic expression. He _knew_ she hated the thought of him being pleased with her, of him finding a parallel in her. He was a total _jerk_, she realized, thinking it a little absurd to mark him with such a casual term. But he _was_. He was playing the villain simply because he could. She'd never done _anything_ to him besides fear him.

Using this newfound anger as a tool for bravery, although she was still on guard against his sudden mood swings, she found she could at least look at him without flinching.

It wasn't much, but it was improvement.

"I'm not listening to you," she told him defiantly. "You and I, we're _nothing_ alike."

The Joker seemed delighted.

"Oh yeah," he said, "but we _are_, Jesster. And, in time, you'll see that too."

"No. That's totally not true," Jess said, raising her voice, trying to convince him as much as herself. This was really upsetting her, and she cast aside all thoughts of his danger as she continued. He was _wrong_ and he was an asshole. And he needed to _know_ that.

"I don't _think_ like you," she continued. "I don't toy with other people's emotions like you do. I don't enjoy seeing people hurt or afraid. I'm _not_ like you."

The Joker giggled and pushed himself away from the table to come at her again. Shit. She'd done it now. Stupid, Jessica! Stupid! She _always_ let her big mouth run away with her.

"Maybe you don't _do_ the things I do," the Joker said, coming steadily closer, "but that doesn't mean we're not alike. You oughta know that. We _are_."

"How?" Jess's voice shook as she dared him to come up with a similarity, a single one, between the two of them. The Joker's response was immediate.

"_Conviction_," he said, looking her directly in the eyes, his face much too close, as always. "We've got _ideas_. And we'll do anything to see them realized." He licked his lips.

"Everyone had ideas," Jess said. "That doesn't _mean_ anything. You're just spewing nonsense!"

"_Not _ideas like ours," the Joker replied. He tapped a finger on the side of his head. "The thoughts up here mirror the thoughts you have. Maybe they got warped in translation but essentially they're _exactly the same_. Know why?" Jess shook her head. "Because we're coming from the same place, you and me."

Jess wasn't sure what he meant by that, but she was really uncomfortable. He spoke with such confidence; it was hard not to believe him on some level. She looked to the side and tried to slide away from him, but he braced a hand on the wall to either side of her head.

"Let me go," she whispered.

"Oh I can't do _that_," he said. "Not now that I've _found_ you. You know, you're like…" he looked at the ceiling, trying to find the right words. "You're like the extra little _zing_ in this whole operation. You're what makes the clock race and the men work. _You're_ what brings them all together. You're the missing piece!"

"This isn't a game!" Jess screamed, angry and frightened and hysteric. The thought that she had fallen so perfectly into all of this, that he was completely manipulating all of them, was suddenly too much to bear. The Joker leaned back a little, eyebrows raised, watching her face go red and her breathing accelerate. When she didn't say anything else he patted her cheek, none too gently.

"Yeah it is," he said, a little melancholy tinting his words. "You'll learn that as we continue to play."

He stared at her for a moment. His hand was still resting on her face after patting it and, slowly, as he had upstairs earlier that day, he ran his thumb along her lower lip, looking at it analytically, as though wondering how badly he could cut it before she started to scream. She let him, not knowing what else to do. After a moment, he backed away.

"Go to bed, Jesster," he said. "We've got a _long_ day ahead of us."

Jess stared at him suspiciously, almost not believing her luck that she was getting out of here with nary a scratch. (Yes. Nary.) She walked forward slowly and he watched her closely, a little grin back on his face. As soon as she was past the point where he could simply reach out and grab her, she started to run, racing up the stairs and through the metal door at the top. She could hear his laughs resound through the basement before the door slammed close on the noise.

* * *

**Review please!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Whoo hoo! Happy 10th chapter! **

**With your permission, romance will happen soon. Not SOON soon, but relatively soon. Next couple of chapters. Tell me if you hate that.**

**Listen to Creep by Radiohead. My dear friend Dette thought of that song, which pretty much sparked the playlist thing. It's not perfect for his anarchist, evil, "psychopath with zero empathy" self, but I think there must be a sad Joker in there somewhere, right?**

**Reviews! I love all your reviews! You guys are so amazing! And thanks for the favs! K I love you! Bai!**

* * *

Jess found Billy as soon as she got up the next morning. She was a little disoriented upon coming out of her room to see sunlight streaming through the high windows along the tops of the walls; she'd woken up yesterday after evening had already fallen, so she wasn't used to the old corridors being so well lit. But she enjoyed being able to see where she walked.

Billy was lounging on the stage, feet dangling over the edge, chatting with Drew. When she approached and plopped down next to him, he glanced at her shiftily, a little guilt in his eyes.

"Hey, Jesster!" Drew exclaimed, grinning widely. "What's up?"

Jess stared at him and Billy came to her defense, shaking his head and casting Drew a stern look.

"Don't call her that," he said softly.

Drew frowned and leaned across Billy, towards her.

"It bothers you?" he asked seriously.

Jess widened her eyes and nodded, as if to say "uh, duh!"

"Sorry," Drew said.

"It's okay," Jess replied. "What happened last night?"

Drew let out a whooping laugh.

"Oh, man!" he said, energized. "You should've been there, Jess! My God. The boss is just… I can't even _begin_ to explain…"

"He's completely insane," Billy said hoarsely. "But, God… Jess… He's a goddamn genius."

"What happened?"

"So we got to Gambol's place…"

"Wait, hold on," Jess said, "_Gambol_?"

"A boss in Gotham," Drew explained. "Powerful, tough… Not very smart, though. He had a price out on the Joker's head: A million alive, five hundred thousand dead."

"Why?" Jess asked.

"Don't really know," said Billy. "We don't get told much. I think it's a control thing."

"Anyway," Drew took up the narrative again, "we get to Gambol's place and, I shit you not, the boss tells us to wrap him up in garbage bags. Explains the whole thing to us. We've got to pretend we killed him and sneak him past Gambol's men on the pretense that we're collecting our reward. So, we do."

Billy continued from there.

"We set him down on this pool table," he said, "and Gambol was acting like a prick, strutting around all self satisfied. He was like, 'So. Dead? That's five hundred.' And then the boss just _pops_ up and says, 'How about alive?' He's got Gambol by the mouth with his knife and Drew, Laurence and I sort of… keep the other guys in the room calm."

"With guns," Jess said, resigned.

Billy shrugged.

"_We_ didn't kill anybody," Drew muttered.

"So, the boss starts _talking_ to Gambol. He asks him if he wants to know how he got his scars."

Jess leaned forward excitedly.

"Did he tell you guys?" she asked. Her curiosity on the subject was colossal.

"He said…" Billy looked down and shook his head, a little sadly. Was there pity there? Jess frowned.

When he spoke next, his voice was grave.

"He said his dad was a… horrible man. He killed his mom when the boss was a kid, while the boss stood there and watched. Then his dad carved those scars into his face so he'd always be smiling. 'Why so serious?' his dad said, and carved his face."

Jess sat there for a moment, a little stunned.

"That… happened?" she asked softly.

Billy and Drew looked down at their hands and shrugged. Absurdly enough, Jess felt really sad for the Joker; for a child to go through something like that was a horribly cruel trick of fate. No wonder the man was so twisted…

"Jesus," she whispered. "He _saw_ his mom die…?"

"It's weird to feel bad for someone you wanna hate, huh?" Drew said, not as though he empathized, but as though he was delivering a reason for her to reconsider her dislike of their captor. Jess stared at him incredulously.

"I can still manage to hate him," she replied coldly. Then, summoning up an incredible well of disdain, "I suppose he killed Gambol."

"Well, yeah," Billy conceded. "But, if given half a chance, Gambol would've killed us."

"That's the most messed up excuse I've ever heard." Jess's voice was shaking as she said it.

"And _that's_ a preliminary opinion," Drew said. "You'll see what we mean though. When you go out with him in a few days."

Jess snorted.

"I am _not_ going _anywhere _for him."

Billy smiled sadly.

"Honestly, Jess, I doubt you'll have a choice."

* * *

Jess didn't see the Joker again for nearly a week, largely due to the fact that she avoided wandering aimlessly around the theater. Leaving her room was leaving her breath behind; the harried jogs down the hallways, usually to the rec room, were highly anxious, to the point where she simply held her breath and ran as quietly as she could into another area of light and safety. The thought of encountering his tall shadow at the end of a corridor paralyzed her mind, until there was nothing but her pounding pulse and she had to sit and calm herself down.

Near the end of a mercifully uneventful day, Jess was in the rec room playing Blake at a game of rummy and winning extraordinarily. When the door behind her opened and a small group of men spilled in, talking amongst themselves, she didn't even bother to glance around.

However, when Blake suddenly became deeply involved with the cards in his hands, refusing to look up or even acknowledge that she was there, Jess took notice. Stiffening, her pulse accelerating, she cocked her head and began to turn...

She heard his voice before she saw him, low, almost conversational, talking with the others. The words were ambiguous, but his tone, the strangeness of a voice at once both nasal and throaty, were all too familiar.

Jess turned sharply in her chair and locked her gaze onto the Joker's dangerous form, wanting to keep him in her sights at all times. He was with a few men, leaning casually against the door frame, his arms folded, no real smile lingering around the mangled corners of his lips. Panic was slowly rising the longer she stared at those lips, but when she looked up and found that, suddenly, his onyx gaze was directed, quite solidly, in her direction, that rising panic seized her in its entirety.

Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to sprint as fast as she could away from there. Preservative instincts on over-drive, she dropped her cards and lurched backwards, the legs of her chair dragging unevenly over the thinning carpet. Giving her insufficient time to correct her movements, one of the legs caught an uneven patch of ground and the chair lifted and lurched for half a sickening second before toppling to the floor, its foot catching the ground at a wrong angle.

Jess fell to her haunches beside it, slightly embarrassed that she'd actually fallen out of a chair. But that was hardly the issue to dwell upon now. She was up in a second, hysterically searching for a way out, remembering the feel of the Joker's hands on her, his breath in her ear, his body against hers.

It all sounded sexy now.

It hadn't been.

"Hey, hold on," Blake said quietly, grabbing her wrist as she started away from the table, his hand closing around her skin like a shackle. "He… uh… he wants to talk to you."

Jess jerked her head towards him and stared straight into his eyes, trying to convey just how _much_ he'd fucked up this time. She felt so betrayed! Blake, all the men, _knew_ how much she wanted to avoid something like this! How _dare_ he!

Blake, shying away from the rage in her stare, shrugged his shoulders.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"You should be."

"Good evening, my _fine_ feathered friends," the Joker suddenly hailed the room at large, effectively grabbing the focus of its occupants as he shifted away from the door frame. He loved the spotlight, the complete attention of others; he drew from the energy of those he impressed and terrified, some deep-seated result of who he was as a person. He'd been this flamboyant, this attention-loving since childhood, she knew somehow; the confidence he exuded was of a particular kind—effortless, impressive, manipulative and terrible. People like him were born, not made. To be sure, his mind was inalterably skewed, perhaps the consequence of a terrible tragedy or several.

But before that darkness, the Joker might very well have been a child pulling on his mother's pant leg and proclaiming loudly for attention. Fleetingly, Jess wondered what astrological sign he was. Leo, maybe. Like her.

How stupid. Who cares when he was born? His innocence was gone. Maybe he wasn't even human.

Abruptly back in that dark place of utter odium, Jess stood scowling, arms folded, staring at him with every ounce of loathing she could generate. He glanced momentarily at her but otherwise ignored her glowering expression.

"We have some work to do," he announced to the men. "Y'know, I've been _watching_ you. And I'm very _impressed_."

Jess wasn't sure whether or not he was being facetious but he didn't look angry. It was safe. She relaxed a little but continued to try to kill him with death rays from her eyes.

"You all seem to know what it _takes _to get by around here," he went on. "And that's a _valuable_ asset to you. Well done." He clapped his hands slowly, looking around with a grin. Finally, after a minute of his applause, he sighed wistfully. "Well," he said, "time to work. We have… uh…" he cleared his throat, "a _guest_ with us tonight. I need four men to set him up, make him feel… _accommodated_."

Men immediately raised their hands and the Joker, giggling absurdly at a joke only he understood, pointed to a few of them.

"You'll find him in the security office. His name's _Brian_. If he gives you trouble… you know what to do."

The men nodded and left. Jess felt nauseated at their level of obedience.

"I helped get him," Blake whispered, almost proudly, to her. "He was dressing up as Batman or something. We went this morning."

"I don't care," Jess said through gritted teeth, closing her eyes.

"Now," the Joker went on, "some of you might know we've been _hired_…" he licked his lips and said the next words lowly, a little dangerously, "by the _mob_." The sound stretched on a little longer than usual and a few men snickered. The Joker cast them significant looks. "_So_, we're gonna have to be taking orders _but_ we do it our way. No rules. No regulations. We're getting rid of the Bat according to how _we_ think it should be done. And that begins…" he grinned, "_tonight_."

He paused and looked around, then pointed at few people, including Billy and Blake. "I need you, you, you and… _you_ to make a few special little deliveries with me. Once I'm done with Brian. Should be about an hour and I'll be ready."

He turned and started to walk towards the door. Jess, hardly believing her luck, let out the breath she'd been holding. Perhaps Blake had been wrong…

Just as she allowed that warm rush of relief to hit her system, the Joker turned around.

"Oh, uh, _Jesster_?" he said, grinning when her face fell and cold dread made her go pale. "You oughta come along, too. See how things are _done_ around here."

He waited for a response. When none came from her but shocked, horrified silence, he chuckled lowly and walked out the door.

* * *

Two hours later, Jess was riding in a van driven by Billy (secured safely in the passenger's seat, thank God). Her arms were folded tightly across her chest, firm in her determination not to do _anything_ illegal… or, given the situation, as little as she could. She was relatively sure simply being with these men made her an accomplice, but there was not much to be done about that at the moment.

Blake had instructed her to dress all in black and they had finally given her some makeup to work with, so her eyes were lined darkly. Everyone had eyeliner on, tonight. It disguised you, in a subtle way—so subtle it often wasn't noticed, and therein lied its greatest strength. If a man was asked to identify a criminal he'd seen wearing eyeliner at the scene, the crook's eyes would not look the same without makeup and it would be enough to confuse any witness. Coupled with dark hoods and gloves, identification was made much harder

The Joker—God knew what he was up to—was supposedly meeting them outside their destination: the Gotham City Courthouse. Jess hadn't had to deal with the boss since the rec room earlier, and she was hoping against hope that he wouldn't show.

He did.

He was waiting in the shadows around the back of the building when their van pulled up, dressed magnificently in his dirty purple trench coat. He seemed positively giddy as they hopped out of the vehicle, bouncing with every step he took towards them, his jaw working loosely. Staring at him with utter revulsion, Jess slowly slid from her seat and stood stiffly by the van, arms still crossed protectively. The four men gathered around their boss immediately, two of them holding large black duffle bags, probably packed with supplies, perhaps some weapons. Not particularly keen on hearing the Joker's orders, Jess stood away from the group. His voice was so hushed that she didn't catch a word, but he kept making gestures up to one of the windows of the courthouse. One of the men asked a question in a slightly louder tone, which she caught.

"How are we gonna get her, boss?"

The Joker shrugged.

"I'll figure something out," he replied.

Jess, not wanting to know what he'd meant by "get her," turned away and went back to trying not to listen.

After only a moment or two more of conference, suddenly the men were very busy. Billy and Tim, the men with the bags, dropped to their knees and withdrew from them a few choice items, small pieces that Jess couldn't really see, concealed as they were in their palms. She found out relatively quickly that they were lock picks, as Billy jumped up to start working at the doors. Jess wondered where the hell he had learned to pick a lock. He seemed to have had a lot of practice, because the sturdy door easily creaked inward after only a moment.

Jess squeezed her eyes shut, knowing, just _knowing_, that there would be an alarm.

There was nothing. One of the men held a small device to an electrical box on the wall.

"Nothing's going out," he said. "No silent alarm, either."

The Joker whooped with laughter.

"Y'see?" he said, skipping as he made his way towards the open door. "These old buildings are easier to break into than you'd _think_."

Jess crept towards the door, coming to stand next to Billy as he pocketed the lock picks, concentrated lines creasing his brow.

"Courthouse like this, you'd think there'd be more security," he whispered, peering into the darkness beyond the door.

"Sure there is," the Joker said. "We just have to be _quiet_."

With absolutely no warning, the boss spun on his heel and grabbed Jess's wrist, pulling her into the building after him. She twisted silently, trying in vain to break free, but he was much stronger than she was and the attempts were futile. He didn't even glance at her as she fought his grip, and after a moment she merely sighed and gave up, resigned to the vice-like feel of purple leather on her wrist. The door shut quietly behind them once the group was in the building— excluding Blake and Tim, who stood outside to keep watch.

They made their way stealthily up flight after flight of stairs, checking around corners, keeping their footsteps hushed and light. Any consideration Jess gave to yelling or screaming for the attention of a security guard flew away when the Joker removed his little knife from an inside pocket, as though knowing what she was thinking. His firm grip transferred to her waist, the knife pressing promisingly into her side. He was a little awkward, pulling her along as he walked, his arm wrapped rather intimately around her. He grasped her too close often and she stumbled.

But this discomfort was nowhere near the fear she felt at his subtle threat. He was keeping her close so that she wouldn't be tempted to cause any trouble, but Jess knew how it would look if they were found. Fear of going to jail, of not being believed if she told the police her story, kept her from attracting attention to them, too.

There was that stupid survival instinct again.

The Joker halted suddenly at a door halfway down the fifth floor hall and regarded it for a moment, grinning. Billy immediately stepped forward to try the handle. The latch turned with the knob, but there seemed to be a chain keeping it barred from the inside, one that probably couldn't be unlocked with a pick. Jess sighed in relief.

"Loeb likes his _privacy_," the Joker mused. He glanced quickly up at the wall. Jess could almost watch an idea form in his mind.

"You want us to go back down for the bolt cutters?" Billy asked, examining the side of the door carefully. The Joker shook his head.

"No. That's what _Jesster's_ here for."

Jess broke away from him.

"Me?" she whispered. "What?"

"Yeah," the Joker said, leaning down to her. "Listen. Uh… _You're_ the smallest one here. Think you can fit through that air vent up there? Hmm?" He pointed high on the wall, where he had been looking not moments before.

Jess stared up at the thin black opening. She was relatively sure she _could_ fit but _no way_ was she going to do that for him.

"No," she said, shaking her head frantically.

The Joker rolled his eyes, seeing right through her ruse, licked his lips and started pushing her towards it. Jess struggled, but unfortunately his efforts were helped by the two other men there. A screwdriver was slapped in her palm to remove the grate and suddenly three pairs of hands were gripping different parts of her body—two around her hips, two on her upper thighs, and two cupped beneath her feet so that she could use them as a temporary step.

As they lifted her up to the little hole, Jess turned back and glared down at Billy. He smiled apologetically and she whispered, "We are _so_ not friends after this." Billy laughed, knowing that she was kind of joking—even though she really _wanted _to be serious. But what else could he do?—and pushed her butt over their heads. She leaned forward, giving up, quickly twisting her tool and loosening each screw from their positions at the vent's corners, dropping them one by one on the heads of the men below.

When the cover came away from the wall she had to swallow the urge to throw it into the Joker's face, handing it instead to Billy. Then, sighing, she slid into the air vent.

The tunnel was dusty and cold, and her free skin snagged on the metal, giving her little burns up her arms. She couldn't really breathe in there as her ribs were squished between two walls of steel and her neck throbbed from hunching her head forward to keep it from hitting the top of the shaft.

She wondered how the Joker could stand it, in the posture he always assumed. Didn't he get terrible neck aches? He was always slumped over, shoulders bent, on guard for something. Did it simply not bother him anymore, he was so used to standing like that?

Jess blinked.

What?

Had she seriously just been thinking something as arbitrary about him as whether or not his neck hurt from his abysmal posture?

When someone doesn't kill you long enough, you learn to kind of treat them as a person, no matter who they are.

Funny, huh?

This wasn't to say that Jess was used to the Joker (not even) or to say that she was starting to like him (nothing resembling _anything_ close to "like" formed when she thought of the man) but she _was_ starting to see where the others were coming from.

The simple fact was that he hadn't tried to kill her yet—besides the night he'd found her in his basement—nor even really harmed her. It made her feel… Well, not safe. She knew she wasn't safe. She simply wasn't as on edge at all times anymore. He certainly inspired fear, vigilance, but she felt she was at least a little more special to him than anyone else.

She was sure he'd killed that Brian guy. Why not her? Why not the others? He _must_ have felt they were special somehow. And that was good, right?

The sad thing was, Jess _wanted_ to be special to him, and not just so that he wouldn't kill her. Maybe it was some sort of sick Stockholm Syndrome thing, but all of them, including her, were starting to vie for his attention. She hated him, but she wanted him to—if not respect her—at least _tolerate_ her.

What was going on?

Why was she so cool with army crawling through an air vent to unlock the door of Commissioner Loeb's office?

She supposed anyone could get used to a lifestyle after a while.

All of these thoughts went quickly through her mind so that by the time she was done thinking she had arrived at the end of the tunnel. She slid out of the wall and dropped clumsily into the office, landing hands-first, arms outstretched, into a soft armchair placed just beneath the vent. Then, without hesitation, went over and unlocked the door.

* * *

**Mmmm... This chapter ends a little abruptly, I know, but it was getting long and I didn't want to make it unreadable. More to come soon. Review!**


	11. Chapter 11

**GAAAAAHH!**

**FINALLY, RIGHT!**

**Sorry this took SOOOOO long. I've had a very VERY busy week and inspiration was like ZERO. So some of this may be a little forced but... No, actually, I think it's pretty good.**

**I listened a lot to This Celluloid Dream by AFI. Not perfect but... It has that FEELING, you know? **

**Thank you SO MUCH for reviews and favs! I love you all! To those who criticized... Thank you very much. Your input was very helpful and I REALLY am working on the things that are a bit weird (especially old Mr. J's character.)**

**Someone asked how long it took me to think up the name Jesster... Not long, pal. Not long. Why do you think I named her Jess in the first place?**

**This chapter'll hopefully give a hint to a deeper facet of the Joker... and a bit of the crazies as well... :D**

**Love you all! REVIEWS, PLEASE! THEY MAKE ME WANT TO WRIIIIIIIIITE!**

* * *

The Joker pushed his way into the room once Jess had opened the door a crack, followed quickly by the two other members of the Lucky Twenty. She lingered, unsure of herself, by the door. The thought of escape came and flew so quickly she hardly recognized it; but there was no time to decide what this meant before Billy slung an arm over her shoulder and whispered a "Great job, Jess," in her ear.

She smiled tightly, glancing warily at the Joker who was bent over the desk by the window, a small vial of clear fluid in his hand. Dexterously sliding open the lowest drawer, he withdrew a bottle of some kind of light brown alcohol, she thought probably whisky, unscrewed the top and sniffed its contents. He raised the vial in his hand.

Jess frowned, not quite understanding what he was doing.

She was distracted when Billy suddenly kissed her cheek. Inhaling sharply, she turned to look at him with bemusement. He grinned at her cheekily.

"I'm proud of you," he whispered.

"Why?"

"You're _doing_ this," he said. "It really feels like you're on our side. And you're handling it all really well."

Jess opened her mouth, trying to find the words; trying to decide if she wanted to tell him that, no, of course she wasn't with them, she was only doing this to stay alive; or maybe tell him that the Lucky Twenty was all she had in this place, and wherever they went, she would go, too. Even if they were following a psychopathic clown.

But she stayed silent. Truth be told, she wasn't so sure of her convictions anymore. This was wrong. And she wasn't condoning it. But being alone here seemed so much worse than breaking into a building to do… whatever they were doing.

Frowning a little, Jess turned back to the Joker, straining to recognize what he was up to. But he had straightened from the desk, the bottle had disappeared and the little vial seemed to have retreated back up his sleeve. He looked up darkly and nodded towards the door, indicating that they should lead the way out.

* * *

The group rushed silently down hall after hall, the Joker fronting the charge with that oddly hunched walk of his, the swishing of their clothes the only sound to break the stillness and shadows.

Jess, scurrying along just behind the Joker, couldn't help but remember that there were still security guards in the building – probably very armed security guards. She clutched the sleeve of Billy's dark jacket and took comfort in the fact that, _if_ they were discovered, the guards' priority would be to put a bullet between the Joker's eyes, not the eyes of the cowering blond girl in the corner. If they were found she, at least, might be safe.

Losing Billy, though…

She didn't know if she'd be able to cope. Billy was her rock in all of this; no matter where his loyalties were or how much he was willing to do for the boss, he had never been anything to her but the Billy she knew. He still managed to make her smile, dry her tears, and help her feel more at home. There was a deep kindness in him that shone through the darkest night, and she admired and adored him for it.

The Joker took a sharp, sudden turn around a corner and Jess had to stop and retrace her steps when she realized the new direction in which they were headed. The Harlequin of Hate wasn't speaking much tonight, and every time she looked at his face he was frowning, concentrated, a little pensive. It was strange, as his mood had been so whimsical earlier. His disposition had, at the drop of a hat, altered drastically. She guessed it might be simply because he was "in the zone" as it was; otherwise, there seemed to be no catalyst for the change.

In the silence, as they made their escape, Jess heard the Joker muttering lowly to himself. Interested, she left Billy to hurry to his side, though he neglected to even spare her a glance. His eyes were removed from this world, narrowed and intense, his mouth set in a sneer, and he was whispering, apparently to no one; whispering words she could scarcely understand. A few seemed to be coming out in a foreign language… French, maybe? She heard only a little of what he said:

"No, but they don't _get_ it, yet… See? We have the… It's _not_ over… Lost? ... No… When we get to the court we'll put it… and then to the monkeys… _je pense que_… Yeah. Yeah, and when she's _dead_… We'll have it… _il n'a presque pas_... We just have to make _sure_..."

Jess was utterly engrossed in staring at him, wondering what he was saying—what he was _thinking_—that she forgot to look where she was going.

Her toe suddenly snagged the carpet and she tripped forward, flailing. The Joker's arm was out in a flash and she crashed against it, but he tightened his muscles to keep her from going down. She regained her balance as quickly as she could, unable to help the gasp that escaped from her mouth, but the Joker's next movements were too rapid to register. He turned, ripped his arm away from her gripping fingers and grabbed her shoulders roughly, pushing her back into the wall.

The group stopped. The men stood frozen, not wanting to interfere, as that course of action could easily turn out badly for all of them. Silence stretched on for a long time.

The Joker, fire in his eyes, stared angrily at Jess, the knife which had suddenly appeared in his hand pressed roughly against her cheek. It was like she had woken him from a dream when she'd tripped, but his reflexes to catch and then trap her were rather impeccable. After a moment, the Joker growled lowly and stepped away, running a hand through his greasy hair.

"_Expendable_…" he said.

Jess couldn't be sure if this was a continuation of his self-conversation from earlier or a warning to her personally.

"Sorry," she whispered, fear growing in her chest as he continued to stare murderously at her. The Joker's dark eyes were still intense, angered, but something told her that her tripping wasn't the only reason for his foul mood.

"Careful, _Jesster_," he warned. "You can't _make_ mistakes like that if you wanna survive…"

The hand that still pinned her shoulder to the wall drummed its fingers rapidly for a moment, then he let her go and continued on as though nothing had happened. Jess stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, and turned to catch up, heart pounding like it always did when the Joker turned his attention to her.

She fell into step just behind him again, glancing sheepishly at Billy, who graced her with a bracing smile.

Then a noise from the Joker distracted her. She heard him whisper one last thing before they reached the door at the end of the hall.

"You _say_ so… but listen. Is she?... Of course she is…"

* * *

The cold night air ripped through Jess's lungs, burning like a flame, and her heart pounded with exhilaration as she sprinted down the road towards the vans. Cars went by in a blur of lights and squealing wheels, and she dizzily felt her own hair whipping her in the face. Only Billy's jacket, a corner of which she held tightly in her hand, was constant as he helped to pull her into a more rapid pace.

It had all happened so fast.

After the Joker had finished his business in the courthouse—he'd stuck a playing card into the center of a certain folder sitting on the desk in the office at the end of the hall—they'd made their hasty yet stealthy escape, weaving back through the labyrinth of corridors and out the way they had come with not even one security scare. Jess was relieved but a little skeptical of just how poorly Gotham's legal houses were kept protected. It was like they had been _asking_ for a break in.

Billy had explained in the van on the way to the news station that doubtless the mob had something to do with the lack of security that night. Maroni's men had infiltrated almost every possible department of Gotham's law and police division, so it wouldn't have been _too _difficult to clear that area of the building that night.

Their next destination was on the other side of town – a little news station a few side-streets away from the main arterial. As a precaution, the vans were parked two blocks away from the building and they walked to it, Blake and Tim once again waiting behind to stand guard.

They'd gone to the front doors, Jess pulling her hood up in case there were any security cameras out there. The Joker had pulled a blank VHS tape, the likes of which you hardly saw anymore, from his jacket. He'd dropped it carelessly into a plastic bag, threw in a joker card, and tied on a note in classic ransom letters, cut out from a newspaper.

No one said the Joker didn't like to do things the good old fashioned way.

Jess didn't get chance to read what his note said before he'd tucked it all up and set it on the mat in front of the door, muttering "Just in case." She'd been curious, but she wasn't sure she _wanted_ to know what was on that tape or why he wanted the news station to have it.

The Joker had turned around and smiled at the three of them, then shrugged and started to lead the way back to the vans.

As they had passed an alley to their left, a sudden whooshing sound had been heard, followed by a loud crash as something slammed into the lid of a dumpster only ten yards from where they stood... something that had just dropped from the rooftop above. The Joker had stopped on a dime. Tilting his head, he looked curiously down the dark lane.

There was silence for a moment, and then Jess had gasped as the thing crumpled on the bent dumpster lid started to _moan_. A person!

A person had fallen, or been thrown, from the roof onto a dumpster.

As one, the group raised their eyes to the building above, where a dark shape stood, looking down pensively on the man he had just tossed casually off a roof. He was masked and cloaked and simply enormous, at least six foot five, completely rock-solid.

Jess could tell even at this distance who he was. She felt her heart leap and her breath quicken.

There was no mistaking it: this was _the_ Batman! She gazed at him, trying to pick out his specific features but finding it difficult given the distance and the darkness. He didn't seem aware of them. He stayed utterly still, apart from lifting his chin a little and gazing off across the rooftops of Gotham. Jess's breath had left her.

Not more than a few seconds had passed but Jess had felt as though time slowed down to give her years to look at him. It was _utterly_ surreal.

The Joker broke the spell, of course, by letting out a delighted giggle and taking off down the street, whooping in exhilaration as he did so. The rest of the gang had immediately started after him, leaving Jess behind to continue staring at the pensive masked crusader on the rooftop. He'd obviously not noticed them or he would've moved. After only a second, Billy was back, grabbing Jess by the wrist and pulling her down the street.

And so here they were, running as fast as they could towards the vans at the end of the block. Jess couldn't help shooting bewildered glances over her shoulder towards where she'd seen her very first real-live super hero, wondering if, _hoping_ that he'd follow them. But he didn't. They had done nothing to attract his attention, after all, besides the Joker's whoops of ecstasy as they started to race away.

But of course, how could Batman have known that the man whose laughter carried down the streets of Gotham that night would very soon become his arch nemesis?

It was all greatly exciting!

They reached the vans quickly. Billy jumped in the driver's side and Jess climbed into the passenger seat, but was immediately pushed towards the middle by someone behind her. Looking to her right she saw, much to her chagrin, that the Joker had chosen to ride in _their_ van this time. He now sat in the passenger's seat and Jess was squished between the two men, on one side smelling Billy's deodorant, on the other the strange, masculine, indefinable scent of the Joker.

He was still grinning ear to ear as Billy sped off down the streets and his hands, resting on his legs, drummed random, agitated sequences. He was once again in a whimsical mood.

"Did you _see_ how far the Bat let Dumpster Boy _fall_?" the Joker intoned giddily, his voice jumping up and down between octaves. Billy laughed and nodded. "Ruthless," the Joker said, a little growl to the word as he grinned at the passing buildings outside. "_Juuuust_ ruthless."

"You itchin' for a fight with him, sir?" Billy asked, with way more bravado than Jess could have possibly conjured. The men were scared of him, but they were infinitely more comfortable in his presence than she was. Billy's tone was almost casual, but his nuances were guarded and reverent.

"Sure," the Joker hissed, running a hand through his hair. "Sure I am. You can't have victory without opposition. _I _wanna see how far he can stretch before he _breaks_."

Jess clenched her fists tightly. Batman was her favorite hero. She realized she probably knew more about him than the Joker did himself. That was a little ironic, seeing how important the two were to each other. But here was this crazy guy talking about how he'd like to torture and kill the most honorable person in the city, probably one of the few last good heroes in the world of comic books!

"That's hideous," Jess muttered, stiffening as soon as the words left her mouth.

She'd _meant_ for it to be a harmless thought, but somehow her tongue had formed the words. Once realization struck, she turned slowly, fearfully, to the Joker.

A sneer painted his features but he didn't look at her; he just watched the street outside. Once again, his dark, deep eyes grew so intense it was a wonder they didn't glow. This, she was coming to realize, was the Joker at his most dangerous, his most unpredictable.

When he went back into his head like that, you never knew what he would do.

And she, Jess grasped with a jolt, had been the one to force him into that mood this time.

"Y'think so?" he asked after a second, his voice high, almost breaking.

He still wouldn't look at her, but his hand moved over to rest on her knee. She didn't dare attempt to shake him off, and his fingers began to clench, harder and harder, until the pressure he was exerting actually began to hurt. She gasped and bit her lip to keep from making any sounds as his long fingers gripped her knee hard, like he had this huge rage in him but he was forcing himself to release it in increments, finger by finger. His nails dug into her flesh.

She suddenly thought, absurdly relieved, that he was so annoyed with her that he'd never ask her to come with them on a job again.

She closed her eyes as his knuckles went white with the amount of force he was exerting on her knee. It wasn't even that it really hurt _that_ badly. The thing that scared he was what he'd do when the van stopped. She'd finally done it. She'd made him snap. She wondered what irritated him most: that she was resisting him or if she'd unknowingly said something that struck him as personal. Whatever it was, she'd made a mistake in voicing her opinion and she knew he'd probably kill her when they got back to the theater.

That thought brought tears to her eyes, and they escaped past her eyelids, down her cheeks. This man would be the end of her. She understood that now in a way she hadn't before.

Suddenly, the Joker's hand had retreated. Her eyes flew open and she looked over to find him staring at her with an incredibly bemused expression on his face, as though he couldn't even begin to work out what was going through her head. She'd _never_ seen him wear an expression like this. It was akin to the one she wore when she looked at _him_.

It only lasted a moment. When he noticed he'd gotten her attention, he immediately cleared himself and smiled maliciously. But the look was enough to tell Jess that she wasn't going to die tonight. Somehow, she knew that by interesting him she had secured her own safety.

Jess felt so relieved that, without realizing it, she smiled back. This threw the Joker off guard once more, if only for a second, and he looked away and sat back in his seat, chuckling lowly to himself.

"Jesster, Jesster, _Jesster_," he said. "Not as easy as I _thought_."

Jess wasn't sure what to make of that, but she knew enough not to ask him any questions. She sat in silence the rest of the way back to the theater.

The night was over. She'd survived her first criminal outing.

And, looking back on it now…

She realized she'd sort of enjoyed some of it.

Funny.


	12. Chapter 12

**Oh. My. Good. Lord. Jesus.**

**I am so sorry.**

**So sorry.**

**I had NO inspiration since Halloween. HALLOWEEN! I'm so sorry it's taken so long. Please forgive me. Now we're past that bump in the road and things should go a lot smoother. It's just been a very long, busy month.**

**Anyway, listen to Hysteria by Muse and think of Joker lovins.**

**There's an AN at the end. Read it if you're worried about the romance factor. Sorry again. Rate and review! It's why I came out with this now rather than a month from now.**

Jess slept like a log that night, the best respite she'd had since arriving in Gotham. When she woke up, she felt rested and alive… but most striking was the fact that she felt considerably less fearful than she had for the past week.

It was strange. She kept thinking, as she got up, showered and dressed, that soon that rush of mind-numbing fear would hit; that soon she would think of him and her stomach would drop and she'd feel sick for the rest of the day.

But that didn't happen.

Was she getting _used_ to it here?

It was true: dwelling too long on the Joker got her depressed and queasy. But really, so long as she kept her mind clear, she was in a better mood than she'd been in for quite some time.

Why the sudden change over night? she kept asking herself. Had something been altered when she'd accompanied the group on their "errands"? Or had she become so accustomed to feeling isolated, depressed and scared that being in a better mood seemed unnatural? So many questions! Why couldn't she come to terms with her own brain?

Jess supposed that confusion was a logical byproduct of modification; it was a natural experience if you were forced into a situation that was nothing like anything you'd ever known. Every dawning comprehension, every recognition that she was getting used to this, every reality rush reminding her where she was, was jarring and a bit terrifying. But natural. She had to remember that.

After dressing, Jess left her room to look for Billy. By the clock in the hall—she hadn't retrieved the digital alarm clock she'd taken to the basement—it was eleven in the morning, a time at which the theater was usually buzzing with activity. Today, though, it was quiet. This didn't really startle Jess as she knew many of the men were probably out running errands or doing some job the boss assigned to them. It wasn't until she reached the rec room and found only Blake playing cards with a man named Logan that she realized just how many of them were out.

For a second she felt a little jealous. _They_ got to go do something interesting while _she_ sat around the base, bored.

But it wasn't like they were at a carnival. They were probably doing something illegal, dangerous. Jess felt a little better.

"Where is everyone?" she asked Blake, leaning against the couch, picking a stray thread from its arm. Blake shrugged and threw down his hand, turning to face Jess, stretching.

"Boss took about ten of them to do something with that Brian guy," he said. "Like always, he was vague about it. The others went shopping. Or they're sleeping. Or something."

"Brian's not _dead_, is he?" Jess asked quietly, turned towards the television. Blake glanced at Logan but didn't reply. Jess decided she didn't want to know. "When are they coming back?"

Blake shrugged again.

"They've been gone for about four hours," Logan said, glancing at the clock.

"Should be any time." Blake patted the couch cushion next to him and Jess slipped down, accidentally sitting on the remote and changing the channel.

"Hey," Logan said, and Jess squirmed to try to get the remote out from under her, but Blake grabbed her arm and held her still, suddenly fixated on the screen. Jess directed her attention toward it too.

She'd unwittingly changed the channel to GCN, where a very intense reporter was making it clear that something was rotten in Gotham. The station showed news footage of a man, dressed as Batman but much fatter and shorter, lying dead on the ground, a noose around his neck. The caption at the bottom of the screen asked "Batman Dead?"

A man's voice over the footage spoke in a cold, collected tone.

"Police released video footage connected to the body. Sensitive viewers beware: it is disturbing."

The screen went into static and suddenly there was a handheld, shaky image of a man dressed in a bat suit, tied roughly to a metal chair in what Jess thought might be a large meat-locker. It wasn't difficult to grasp what was going on as soon as the Joker's voice came in, excited and giggly, over the TV speakers, obviously the one behind the camera.

"Tell them your _name_," he said.

The man in the chair whimpered.

"Brian Douglas."

"Are you the _real_ Batman?"

"No."

"No? No? Then why do you _dress up_ like him?" the Joker asked in a cackle, the camera shaking as he laughed.

Brian looked up, a little bravery sparking his eyes.

"He's a symbol… we don't have to be afraid of scum like you."

"Yeah," the Joker said, "you _do_, Brian. You _really do_!" A gloved hand reached out to stroke the terrified man's face with faux sympathy. "Oh," the Joker cooed, "shh shh shh shh… You think Batman's made Gotham a _better_ place?" Brian looked down, uncertainly. "Look at me," the Joker ordered. When Brian did nothing, the clown's voice ripped out in a furious snarl: "_Look at me!_"

Brian looked up.

The shaky camera swung around and suddenly Jess was graced with the Joker's visage, filling the screen, streaked white greasepaint staining his skin, smeared red lipstick covering his full, scarred mouth. He grinned.

"Y'see, _this_ is how _crazy_ Batman has made Gotham. You want _order_ in Gotham? Batman must take off his mask and turn himself in." He licked his lips. "Oh. And every day he doesn't, people will die. Starting tonight." The camera tipped forward and he gave it a very significant look, then stated deeply, "I'm a man of my _word_."

His laughs echoed throughout the room as the camera spun around shakily and the image went out.

Jess sat, frozen in her seat as the news resumed on the screen, asking who and what this madman was, demanding action from Batman. After a long moment, she reached under herself and found the remote, flicking the power button, unable to watch any more. Neither of the men beside her argued. For a long while they just sat in silence, processing what they had seen and heard.

Finally, Blake spoke.

"Well," he said, "now we know where they went today."

Jess shook her head, got up and, with a horrible sinking feeling in her gut, left the room.

When Jess returned to her props closet she collapsed onto her cot, gasping, trying not to let the waterfall of tears break through. Anyone could walk in, and if she were seen crying about some news footage, everyone would go back to treating her delicately, handling her like she could break any second, as they had the first few days she'd been there.

She _couldn't_ stand that. No. To be unafraid and confident she had to be treated as an unafraid and confident individual. If anyone, especially Billy or Blake, saw her crying, the brave front she'd been able to build over the last few days would dissolve and she would go back to being everyone's little sister.

She'd come to hate that feeling somehow. Feeling vulnerable, young or helpless would only worsen this awful situation. So, Jess sat up and stifled her tears, taking deep breaths and trying to remember that she'd never even met Brian. He was just a face in the crowd, someone the Joker felt he needed to use.

But he was innocent.

And he died!

Jess buried her face in her hands. She did _not_ want to die. And she was coming to see, now, that the only way to survive around here was to act according to what the Joker wanted. Act as though she was not innocent.

She could do that.

She _could_.

And she would.

As she had promised, she would do anything the boss wanted with no arguments or fighting. She would do it to survive.

When she'd recovered, Jess left the room to find that the group who had gone with the Joker was back, all a little worn and tired. Jess didn't blame them. If she'd been the one hanging a corpse over the ledge of a roof, she would be far more melancholy than the men. They were remarkably strong people.

She spent the day as usual: playing poker with Blake, making up stories with Billy and joking around with Drew. After dinner she went to her room for some down time, relaxing on her cot and reveling in solitude.

There was a knock from outside.

Jess had been lying on the bed, just thinking, for about an hour and she jumped when the noise broke her pensive silence. She rolled out of the cot, patting down her hair, and slowly opened the door.

None other than the Joker stood there, leaning against the wooden door frame in his awful purple suit. He'd been staring thoughtfully at the floor, his green hair drooping over his eyes, but he looked up when Jess answered.

She stepped back, wary of him, and had to stifle a gasp.

He wasn't wearing any makeup.

Jess tilted her head subconsciously and tried to scrutinize him more closely, extremely interested in this new version of the boss. His skin was pale, but not as pale as she'd imagined before and, without all that greasepaint, she could actually see his eyes: dark and shifty, darting everywhere, persistently a little angry. They were sunken, surrounded by deep circles, the color of bruises. His full mouth was a strangely appealing tan and his scars, jagged raised lines extending along his cheeks, were not as long or as hideous as the makeup made them appear. Without his paint, she could see the little knicks and cuts along his jaw line and lip.

When the Joker turned his head to the side and let his hair fall over his face to avoid her gaze, Jess realized she had been openly gaping. He was so intriguing like this, interesting. New. Different.

He was…

He was really quite handsome.

…

Okay, that was weird! And so totally gross.

Jess immediately forced away that disturbing little thought, the same thought she'd had the first night she'd met him.

"Busy night tonight, Jesster," the Joker said softly, his voice cracking a little, still avoiding eye-contact.

Jess lowered her gaze as well.

"Is there something you wanted?" she asked evenly, trying to suppress the hostility towards him now bubbling in her veins.

"Come on," he ordered, and immediately turned to stalk off down the hallway.

Jess hurried after him silently.

When the Joker unlocked the door to the basement and started tromping heavily down the stairs, Jess stalled at the top step, nervous to follow him down alone. He was immediately aware of this and he halted mid step, turning to look back at her.

"Come on…" he ordered again, a warning in his tone.

Jess looked behind her, wishing that someone would come to her rescue, and tentatively followed, stepping lightly as though that would help the situation. The Joker paused when he reached the bottom of the staircase and allowed her to catch up with him. They walked, side by side, in silence past the piles of junk and paper down there.

The Joker's slightly pensive frown had turned into a little smirk and Jess regarded him wearily, wondering at how the absence of makeup made him no less frightening. Just frightening in a different way. She sort of missed the paint because, like this, he seemed more real. Part of her was still operating on the hopes that this was all a dream or hallucination and his bare face was just another facet working to chip down that defense block.

"Y'know, _you're_ the only one who's been down here," the Joker remarked suddenly. Jess looked up at him. "Besides me…"

"Lucky me," she replied dryly.

The Joker cast her an amused look.

"Like how I decorated it?" he asked.

Jess's lip twitched as she looked around at the papers glued to the walls, but she kept herself from smiling.

"Oh yeah," she said. "Newspaper is so _in_ right now."

"See, that's what _I_ thought," the Joker said. "The dummies in the corner don't _get _it, though."

He flicked a hand to the angle of the room, where five or six mannequins lay piled on each other. Jess rolled her eyes at his awful pun and wondered fleetingly if he had actually asked them whether or not they liked the newspaper stuck to the walls. She wouldn't have put it past him.

Then she realized she was _joking around_ with him. The Joker wasn't overtly trying to intimidate her and she wasn't glaring at him.

That was unnatural. She didn't like it.

She gave him a long glower and he returned with a malicious grin, almost as though he knew just what she was thinking.

They reached a huge old costume chest, carelessly hauled to the middle of the floor, and the Joker stopped by it, giving it a little kick.

"Do you want me to help you carry this or something?" Jess asked, wondering why the Joker hadn't gotten Blake or Drew or someone much stronger than she was to help.

"No," the Joker muttered, squatting down to open the trunk. "We're going to a _party_ tonight. I want _you_ to dress up."

Jess raised her eyebrows.

"What?" she asked shortly.

The Joker glanced up at her, raising the lid on a box to give her a view of all the colorful fabrics therein.

"Pick something," he told her. "Make it… _funny_." He stood up and backed away a step.

For the first time, Jess saw the little knife concealed in his hand. She was sure he had allowed it a flash so that she would follow his orders, but she was intimidated all the same. She knelt down by the box and started digging through the clothes, very aware of the Joker watching.

"Why do you want me to dress up?" she asked.

The Joker shrugged.

"Call it a whim," he said.

"Are the others doing it?"

"They have _masks_."

"But not full costumes?"

"No."

"…So… Just you and me will be actually dressing up?" The Joker exhaled noisily from his nose. Oh, right. He hated questions.

"That's the, uh, _gist_, Jesster."

"Why just me?" There was silence.

"Do you really wanna _be_ like the others?" the Joker asked.

Jess turned her head to look at him, and suddenly his hand was on her shoulder. She jolted in surprise at the contact, falling backwards, and scrambled up, away from the chest. The Joker giggled a little as he watched her, evidently pleased that she was so frightened of him.

"Oh. Don't wanna pick? I will."

Humming lowly, breathily, and out of tune, he stooped down and dug through the costumes. Jess stood watching, wanting to get out of here as soon as possible. After a while, he came up with a little bundle of bright red fabric and tossed it to her.

"Try that on," he ordered.

Jess stood there for a moment, clutching the cloth, unsure of what to do. The Joker raised a critical eyebrow and slowly turned around to give her privacy. Jess snorted. Abandoning caution, she walked a ways away and hid behind a pile of boxes to strip, making sure the Joker wasn't coming any nearer. He made no sounds of opposition when he heard her retreat, so she figured it was safe.

Slowly, she pulled on the outfit, which turned out to be little more than a dress. A very tight, long sleeved dress with a wide, round, low-cut collar. A dress which was much too short for her liking; it barely covered the lower half of her thighs, resting about five inches above her knees. If she made one wrong move in this thing, everyone would see everything.

For a moment, Jess considered taking the costume off and refusing to play this game. But more than anything, she feared the clown's anger, so she stifled her pride and walked out from behind the boxes, holding her old clothes to her torso. The Joker turned around to stare at her, his face giving nothing away. His eyes swept down her body, pausing only very shortly at her legs and collar bones, and he nodded.

"Go get ready," he ordered, nodding towards the stairs.

Jess turned around, trying not to flash him her ass, and began to stalk away angrily.

"Oh, Jesster," the Joker called.

Jess hunched her shoulders and faced him again. She wanted to scream at him for making her wear this. She couldn't even _imagine_ how the other men were going to react.

"Here." The Joker tossed her a black women's top hat. Jess caught it and looked at it, noting that it was actually pretty cool. She sighed and turned away again. He let her leave.

She was able to maneuver sneakily through the halls without meeting any men along the way, a blessing considering how she was dressed. She raced to the bathroom and, dreading what was about to happen, stepped in front of the long mirror beside the stalls.

The dress was darker than she'd originally surmised, a vivid lipstick-red. It was actually quite a pretty color—there were no orange or pink tints to it that might make the color irritating—and the way the fabric fell against her hid any part of her body she didn't consider optimal. Jess was surprised at how positive her initial reaction to the costume was. It kind of looked… really good.

The whole dress conformed perfectly to her, come to think of it. It clung in the right way to every curve and made Jess's body look… well, not flawless. But pretty damn good! She tilted her head, interested. She wasn't the kind of girl who wore dresses, not at all, but her legs looked great and she sort of wondered why she didn't more often. The neckline of the dress was low enough to show just a sexy hint of cleavage and she really liked the way she could use the long sleeves to cover her hands.

Jess struck a pose, or ten, placing the top hat on her head, twirling it around her index finger, trying to look like she knew what she was doing. She resembled a performer in a circus, almost certainly the Joker's intent.

She left the bathroom confidently, never wanting to take the dress off, and went to her room to grab the makeup she had been given. If he was making her go to a party tonight, she might as well look pretty, she told herself.

She started with her eyes, lining them in black, darker and thicker than usual, consciously wanting to stay a little disguised if they were forced to run. They certainly didn't turn into clown-eyes like the Joker usually wore (Not today, however. She kept getting flashes of his natural face in her mind.) but they were pretty heavily made up. It looked good though—it could pass as a smoky evening look if you didn't notice what she was wearing.

Jess almost started doing her lips in black—giving into the character thing—but that reminded her too forcibly of Harley Quinn from the comic books; she did _not_ want to dress like the woman the Joker had hanging off his every syllable. Instead, she put a whimsical little spiral under her right eye in eyeliner and painted her lips a dark red, extending her smile a centimeter or two past the corners of her mouth, a shout out to the boss. It would be obvious who she was working for tonight.

She jammed the top hat on her head and took another look in the mirror. Her heart leaped and her stomach bottomed out at the same time. She looked great, honestly, but…

Oh God.

The tight dress, the top hat, the makeup…

He'd made a comic book character out of her.

Jess sighed, wondering if she should wash it all off and refuse to wear the outfit.

Then Billy popped his head in the door.

"Jess," he said, "the boss… Whoa." Jess turned towards him and gave him a blank look. "I…" Billy stammered, eyes glued on her body. "You… uh…"

Jess swallowed the desire to laugh as Blake's voice came from out in the hall.

"What's the hold up, man?" he asked. "Catch her naked in there?"

Billy glanced back dryly and Blake pushed open the door.

"I'll be damned," he said, a smile stretching his lips. "The chick's got a bod on her." Jess wrapped her arms around herself and made up her mind never to wear the outfit again. Blake laughed. "Don't be self conscious, Jess," he said. "I won't drool too much."

A hot blush flamed over her face.

"Shut up, Blake," Billy shot back protectively, making himself meet her eyes. "Nice makeup. And hat. Are you playing dress up?"

"The Joker is making me wear this," Jess replied sulkily.

"Good man," Blake laughed, and Billy elbowed him in the stomach.

"It's time to go," Billy said. "We're already late."

"For what?" Jess asked. The occasion had not been fully explained to her thus far.

"A party," Blake said, grinning.

"_Bruce Wayne's_ party, Jess," Billy said.

Jess's heart jumped.

"Do we get to meet him?" she asked, trying to keep her voice down. But suddenly her energy was pumping and she felt absolutely jazzed.

Billy put a finger to his lips.

"Don't act like that," he cautioned. "We've decided not to tell the boss who he is. Letting him figure it out on his own is part of the game. We'd be messing with, like, space-time continuum or something."

"That's stupid," Jess said, but she grinned at the thought of keeping the Joker from Batman's true identity.

"Your mom's stupid," Blake muttered and Jess laughed as the four of them left the bathroom.

A party, huh?

A party hosted by Batman?

Maybe she'd be able to get his help!

Yeah.

That's a laugh.

**Author's Note:**

**Long AN. I know. I'm sorry. If you have no problems with my story, skip it and go on. If, however, you are a little worried about the direction I'm taking this romantically, please read. Hopefully it'll answer your questions.**

**In reviews, the main thing is that people are concerned with the romance aspect, either how Jess will handle it or how the Joker will. Some people have asked me not to turn this into "that kind of story."**

**Here's the deal.**

**I wrote this story TO BE a romance. That's WHY I wrote it. I, like many of you, I'm sure, am sickly attracted to the Joker. I find him powerful and somehow beautiful… in this sort of crazy, ugly, messed up way. I am well aware he's a psycho. But I love him around that because he's flippin SMART and his vision, although skewed, is sort of perfect in its chaos. I'm not going to let him get way out of character. I PROMISE you this. If I do something you HATE, please, please, PLEASE flame me for all I'm worth. I WILL NOT get into the mold of so many other FF writers, making him lovey dovey and affectionate. He's not. I'm aware.**

**I do disagree with some of you, though. I think the Joker is fully capable of love. It's just that he doesn't like it. He doesn't try. He keeps himself from feeling it. But he's as capable as the rest of us TO feel it. That didn't change when he went crazy. Remember when he fell in love with Harley in the comic books? He admitted it TO her and they consummated their love. The next morning, though, he shoots her up in a rocket to outer space because he says he doesn't want his feelings for her to get in the way of his work. It's totally insane, I know. But if you've got a problem with him loving anyone, read any Harley comic or The Killing Joke. I know I'm writing Heath's Joker, but I HAVE to take some inspiration from what created him.**

**I'm not promising love any time soon and when it does come along it's gonna be really dark and messed up. YAY MESSED UP! But hold on to your hats, kiddies, because I think all of us can agree that if there is ONE thing Mr. J is able to feel, that's lust. There will be lust. Oh yes. There will be lust.**

**Okay. That's all I have to say. Comments, questions, concerns? Message or review me. ONE LOVE! Peace!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Okay! Chapter 13. Sorry it took so long. I watched the movie tonight, thanks to connections with someone who works at a video store. It was as awesome as ever!**

**All I can say about this chapter is BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I hope you like it.**

**Listen to Split Needles by the Shins. I love the Shins.**

**And remember.**

**There is always a wall. : ) **

**REVIEWS! TELL ME IF YOU HATE IT!**

**This scene belongs to the Nolan brothers, body and soul.**

* * *

Jess's heart started pounding as soon as she climbed into the van, and only beat harder the closer they got to pulling up in front of a grand apartment building across town.

Apart from Jess and the Joker, only five men had come along, though Blake had mentioned that there were quite a few mobsters already waiting in Wayne's building as backup. The members of the Lucky Twenty were hidden behind white clown masks and Jess's face felt very bare given the circumstances. It was true that her makeup made her less recognizable, but anyone could clearly see her features.

The Joker, once again the man she knew in white greasepaint and red lipstick, didn't seem bothered by her exposed visage, however, so she tried to abandon the thought and focus instead on what was going to happen once they arrived.

From the van to the penthouse, time was blurred. They parked in a back alley and Jess was hurried from the vehicle, none too gently, by one of the Twenty; she thought he might have been Blake but she couldn't see his face. No one was speaking. As though it was natural for them, the group followed the Joker into the building without a word, meeting little resistance from the doorman, who was a mobster, and simply shooting the host at the front desk.

Jess squeezed her eyes shut before the gun went off and tried not to see the empty air where the man had recently been. She wasn't sure who had killed him—it hadn't been the Joker—but she was coming to terms with the fact that these men now had no qualms against using a gun. The guy beside her gave her a bracing pat when she opened her eyes. Swallowing her terror, deciding not to think _at all_ for the next hour—just watch, absorb, maybe learn—Jess put on a brave face and loped after the Joker, into an elevator, and up to the penthouse suite.

* * *

When they exited the lift, three young security guards and a robust police officer greeted them with shocked expressions. They let out little yells as they ran forward, pulling their guns, but mobsters appeared from the corridors to either side and, with startling ease, knocked out the three young men and detained the fat cop.

The Joker giggled and sauntered up to him.

"Detective…" he pushed his finger against the sweaty man's badge and he let out a little whimper. Jess kind of felt sorry for him. "...Wuertz. You wanna help crash a party?"

Wuertz almost said something impertinent, but the Joker simply showed him his double-barreled shotgun and the hostage was nodding quickly. Gun to his head, the Joker led the cop to the double doors, through which the noises of a large gathering of people could clearly be heard. The clown ordered him to knock and soon the doors were opened by a distinguished looking gentleman with white hair, carrying a tray of champagne glasses.

Jess, and a few of the other Twenty, let out little gasps as they put together that this was _Alfred_. Jess grinned. He looked exactly like Michael Caine.

She sometimes had to wonder if these celebrities weren't just playing an elaborate prank on her or something.

That seemed almost more far-fetched than being sucked into an alternate movie-verse from the mind of Christopher Nolan.

…

No.

No, it didn't.

She was startled out of her thoughts when the Joker pulled the trigger on the gun and, with a deafening bang, shot a hole in the ceiling.

"_Good_ evening, ladies and gentlemen," he announced to the room at large, strolling in like he frackin' owned the place. "We are… tonight's entertainment!"

The present members of the Lucky Twenty filed after him. You could hear a pin drop; the guests stood shocked and still. Jess decided to lay low, simply watch the proceedings, so she found a niche by the door and backed into it. The crowd near her slunk away and she smiled widely at them, actually having a little fun despite herself. These plastic yuppies had probably never been so scared in their lives.

She scanned the crowd. Where was Bruce Wayne?

Meanwhile, the Joker was busy intimidating the guests, asking lightly for Harvey Dent and blatantly displaying his knife.

"Do you know where Harvey is? Do you know who he is?"

Everywhere he turned, people backed away in disgust or terror, only widening the smile on his face.

Approaching a bald man, he asked, "Where is _Harvey_? I need to talk to him about something, just something little…" He placed his hand on top of the man's head and turned it, muttering "_no_…"

Jess giggled, amused with how horrifically playful he was. Her laugh attracted a revolted sneer from a woman beside her and Jess promptly flipped her off, stepping forward, the better to observe the Joker in action. No one really paid her much mind. She, after all, was _certainly_ not the center of attention.

"Y'know," the Joker said, draining a glass of champagne, "I'll settle for his loved ones."

A distinguished old gentleman emerged from a group of spectators, determined bravery etched on his wrinkled face.

"We're not intimidated by thugs," he announced.

The Joker stopped, popped an olive from a nearby tray into his mouth and turned to look at the old man curiously, a little affectionately.

"Y'know," he said, chewing the olive, "you remind me of my _father_." He placed the tray on the table beside him and glanced back at it before, as an afterthought, knocking it off the platform with a crash. His smile turned rapidly into a scowl and he lunged at the old man, drawing his little pocket knife to his cheek. "I _hated_ my father."

The blade pressed against the man's mouth, about to make its signature cut when...

"Okay, stop." A female voice rang out above the Joker's, and the criminals froze like guilty children, astonished that someone had actually called them out. Unperturbed, only a bit amused, the Joker spun to look at the interloper, tilting his head to one side.

She was of average height, thin and pretty in a regular way. Her brown hair was coiffed stylistically on top of her head and she had wide, dark brown eyes. Her fists were clenched in terror but otherwise she appeared perfectly unafraid, not betraying so much as a flinch when the Joker started towards her.

Jess was impressed. She still couldn't stand his eyes on her for more than a moment before she felt like sprinting as fast as possible in the opposite direction. But she had lived with fearful people long enough to know that this woman was simply bubbling with panic; her clenched fists and set jaw told her so. And the Joker saw this too.

"Well, hello _beautiful_," he purred, his tone a little surprised.

Jess frowned, not sure how she felt about that greeting. She knew he was just intimidating her, trying to force her to show her fear—one thing he loved to see—but he'd never called _Jess_ beautiful…

Oh God! What was she _thinking_? Of _course_ he wouldn't call her that! And she would never want him to.

All the same, though… He'd only just met this woman. If he gave away compliments so freely, why didn't Jess ever receive one?

Because there was never anything but hostility between them! Because she hated him!

Did she?

Yes!

Oh. Right.

Oh, don't even _start_! Look at him! He was gross!

Right! Absolutely. He was a villain.

Exactly.

So being jealous of this woman was ridiculous.

She was _not_ jealous! She wasn't even thinking about him.

Right.

She was thinking about…

Bruce Wayne!

Right!

Where was he?

The Joker had moved up to the girl, and her eyes widened.

"You must be Harvey's _squeeze_. And you _are_ beautiful…" he muttered.

Jess pursed her lips but didn't allow it to get to her. There was no reason it _should've_. It wasn't as if she wanted anything to do with him…

The Joker began circling the woman, head cocked to the side, and she hunched her shoulders, trying to keep him within her line of vision. When he came back around, he studied her face and frowned, mock concern painting his expression.

"You look _nervous_," he said ironically.

Jess was torn between laughing and crying. On one hand, he was toying mercilessly with this innocent lady, but on the other hand, it was all kind of amusing. And she _had _asked for it by speaking up. Didn't they know that bravery got you _nowhere_ with the Joker?

"Is it the _scars_?" he asked, as though that was the only thing he could think of that could _possibly_ be upsetting her. "You wanna know how I got 'em?"

Jess's ears perked up and she leaned forward subconsciously, wanting to hear this sad story for herself. What the Joker said, however, caught her off guard.

"Come here." He hesitantly reached up and grabbed the woman's face, trying to maintain eye contact. "_Hey_. Look at me." Jess intuitively felt her own cheek, remembering when he'd done much the same thing to her. "So, I had a wife—she was _beautiful_, like _you_—who tells me I worry too much. Who tells me I oughta _smile_ more. Who _gambles_ and gets in deep with the _sharks_. Hey!" He forced the woman to meet his eyes and went on, his voice lowering.

"One day they carve her face. We've got no money for surgeries. She can't _take_ it." He pressed the blade of his knife to the woman's cheek and she flinched. The Joker continued. "I just wanna see her _smile_ again. Hmm? I just want her to know, I don't _care_ about the scars. So, I stick a razor in my mouth and do _this_," he turned his head to let the girl get a good look at his "smile," "to myself. And you know _what_? She can't stand the _sight of me_." His voice broke as he said that and Jess's heart ached with pity before she could remind herself who he was. His expression was unfathomable. He was laughing… or crying. "She _leaves_! _Now_ I see the funny side." He released the woman's face and backed away a fraction of an inch. "Now, I'm _always smiling_!"

Well. This wasn't the story Jess had been told by Billy. The Joker had completely flip-flopped his past, which, albeit, was right within the lines of his character.

The woman took this opportunity to brazenly punch him in the stomach. He wheezed and stumbled back a step, but returned with a grin.

"A _little_ fight in ya," he said. "I like that."

Suddenly, a dark shape appeared to his side. Jess saw it a fraction of a second before anything happened, but before she could cry out a warning, the shape spoke:

"Then you're gonna love me."

Jess let out a little yell of shock as the Joker was pummeled backwards by the shape, and suddenly the members of the Lucky Twenty rushed at the hero, their forms obscuring Jess's view. She cried out as the room erupted into pandemonium, the Joker's men attacking the cloaked figure while he tried to fight them off. Jess was pushed away by one of the clowns, a protective shove meant to distance her from the fighting, but she stepped forward, perilously curious to see the person she now knew was Batman.

He was even more impressive close up, in action. He was able to keep the men at bay one by one, punching and knocking them to the ground. Jess was impressed at how daringly the Lucky Twenty threw themselves at him, and even more impressed at his extensively trained technique. He elbowed one man in the chest, then spun around and in the same movement palmed and broke the nose of a mobster, immediately turning again to twist the arm of one of the clowns around until he fell.

A group of them rushed him at once, slowing him for a moment, and the Joker used this opportunity to kick Batman fiercely in the gut. This only seemed to enrage him as he flung out a heavy arm and knocked the Joker away.

The Joker stumbled back a few steps, his path taking him to Jess's side. His dark eyes flicked her way, but she only spared him a second-long look before turning her awed attention back at the Caped Crusader, who was now working to thin the knot of men around him. With a little growl, the Joker stamped and a short silver blade popped out of the toe of his black boot. He cast another look at Jessica, as though to make sure she was watching, then raced at Batman, jamming his foot—and, by association, the blade—between two plates in the armor on the hero's abdomen.

This seemed to give the Crusader all the adrenaline he needed and he reared up, his rage enhanced by the small but irritating injury the Joker's knife had done him. He went to work, punching and blocking and breaking arms and Jess backed away, frightened that he might turn on her. But his attention was nowhere near her small presence, spent as he was on the men still attacking him with nearly reckless abandon… Much, Jess noted, like their boss.

One man ducked around behind Batman while his concentration was distracted and pulled him into a strenuous headlock. From the auburn hair peeking out around the mask, Jess realized with a jolt that this brave clown was Billy!

Suddenly, she wasn't so sure she was rooting for Batman anymore.

With Billy's involvement, Jess was immediately conflicted. He'd become, in this short time, a powerful force in her life; her most trusted adviser and closest friend. She loved and depended on him and she _knew_ that whatever he did was in the right because he was a _good_ person. She _knew_ that.

But here he was, attacking Batman with the rest of them, allowing the Joker to get a few good hits at him before the hero had slipped out of the pose, grabbed Billy's arm and snapped it like a twig over his broad shoulder.

Jess let out a cry of horror as Billy went down in pain and the Joker staggered backwards, surprised by his adversary's newfound freedom. Rage flaring, she ran for Billy, mindless of the fighting, desperate to contact and comfort him as he supported his injured arm.

Batman tripped over her as she knelt to crawl the last foot to Billy, spinning around, giving the Joker just enough time to act.

Jess reached Billy on her hands and knees and cradled his head, gingerly avoiding touching his arm. He was making little noises of pain as she dragged him to the side of the room, pressing her back against the wall, well away from Batman. She ripped away his clown mask, clearing up the passage for fresh air, and his eyes met hers, trying to control his face and conceal the pain he obviously felt.

She glanced down at his arm and watched red blood seep through his sleeve, the jagged splinter of bone raising it slightly. He winced at her gasp of dismay and whispered that it was going to be okay because they'd get to a doctor soon and he'd be fine. Jess gaped at him, amazed that even now, with his own bone poking through his arm, Billy was being the brave one. She kissed his forehead, wiping away the sickly, adrenaline-produced perspiration there.

Meanwhile, the Joker had gotten hold of the woman he had intimidated before—he grabbed her around the waist, a little revolver at her neck, and forced her back towards the large story windows overlooking the city.

Batman stopped in his tracks.

"Drop the gun," he ordered, his voice a growling bark.

"Oh, sure," the Joker said, his hand flying up to emphasize his words. The woman flinched as the weapon whizzed past her face. "You just take off your little mask and show us _all_ who you really are!"

He reached back then and shot out one of the huge floor-to-ceiling panes of glass. Wind filled the room, whipping up the hair of the frightened woman in the Joker's grasp as he flung her back, his grip on her wrist the only thing keeping her from toppling out of the high-rise window.

"Let her go," Batman ordered.

Even as he said it, Jess knew what the Joker's next line would be.

"Very poor choice of _words_," he cackled. With a push, the woman was falling.

She screamed as she fell, and Batman sprinted forward immediately, launching himself from the window and sliding down the roof after the girl.

The Joker sprang into action. He was laughing hysterically, motioning distractedly for his men to follow him. They did readily, going as fast as they could on sprained ankles, nursing their injured bones, stifling the blood oozing out of cuts from Batman's plated forearms. Jess pulled Billy up as rapidly as she dared and supported him out of the all-but-silent ballroom.

The group hustled down a back hallway, into the emptied kitchen, and out a back door to the deserted alleyway beyond. The van was parked just around the corner and two men sprinted ahead to start it up. Sirens could be heard from the streets beyond the buildings on either side—doubtlessly the product of a hundred secret phone calls and panicked text message to the cops—but the Joker had chosen a very good escape route. This little lane was completely obscured from the main arterials.

Jess patted Billy's back, slowing down as the men began to descend the stairs that led from the building to street level. The Joker was humming; he had been, in the charade of a gentleman, holding the heavy metal door open for each person to exit. Billy and Jess were the last from the building, so the Joker let the door swing shut behind them and followed closely on their tail. Billy started making his way gingerly down the concrete steps, trying not to jostle his injury, and broke away from Jess, grabbing the hand rail for support instead.

The Joker was as whimsical as one could imagine. He seemed to be in a very good mood, even though they hadn't actually found Dent, and Jess paused on a step to watch in a sort of interested disgust as he slowly spun his way down the stairs, humming a tune she had never heard—probably one he had just made up. His eyes were closed, blissful, and he danced by her leisurely, pirouetting when he reached the gritty alley ground.

Jess shook her head and stepped out onto the street, watching him dance and giggle his way to the corner where the men waited with the van. Billy was there, wrapping his arm up in an old cloth, and Jess hurried to meet him, wanting to help staunch the flow of blood.

She started to hurry by the Joker, who seemed absolutely giddy. His giggle had turned into full on laughter and he made little skips in the air.

"Did you _see?_" he asked anyone who would listen. "Did you see the Batman in there? How he _threw _himself out the window… for that _girl_…"

The narrowness of the alley made it impossible for Jess to avoid him completely as she tried to slide past to the van. As per usual, however, he didn't let her pass.

His arm snapped out suddenly and he took hold of her wrist, pulling her back to him quickly. She resisted him for a moment, trying to twist her wrist out of his vice-like grip, but when his fingers tightened she gave up, allowing herself to stumble a step or two back. Catching the small of her back, he turned her around and, in the same motion, slammed her by the shoulders into the brick wall of the building beside them.

The men at the corner froze, on guard, watching to make sure he didn't hurt her, and Jess was about to turn to look at them and call that it was okay, because the Joker's eyes were merely giddy. There was no danger in them.

But she never got the chance.

The Joker stumbled against her and paused, his body pressed close—too close. She stilled as soon as she recognized the relevance of their pose, lifting her gaze to meet his.

His eyes had gone dark. Suddenly the gaiety was gone, replaced by a strange, shifting, volatile cloud of confliction. A paint stained, long fingered hand slowly rose to her cheek, cupping a little too roughly, his thumb sliding across her lips. He opened his mouth, maybe about to say something, but no words came.

Quickly, he licked the scar on his lower lip, looking shiftily to his side before settling that fiery stare back on her. Then, with absolutely no ado whatsoever, he brought his mouth down on hers.

The kiss lasted only a moment. Jess was too dazed to really do anything but stiffen in shock as his surprisingly soft lips pressed against her mouth—slightly open, awkward, shaky. She could feel every bump and imperfection of them, could taste the greasepaint he used.

His breath wasn't too bad, all things considered, though it did smell a little like alcohol. He tasted like lipstick, Vodka and possibly Cheerios, with some acrid chemical aftertaste, like a dry-swallowed pill. His hair smelled like charcoal and burnt matches and cigarette smoke and grease. It was a surprisingly tolerable mixture, though Jess didn't think about it for a second.

Overall, it was not a deep kiss but she did nothing to react, neither pulled away nor held him, too surprised, too unsure of what was happening.

He inhaled sharply through his nose and Jess couldn't be sure whether or not he was trying to breathe her in or had suddenly awakened from some dream.

He broke away, jumping like he'd been shocked, his mouth compressed into a firm line, and looked over to where the five other men were standing in appalled silence. Then he looked back to her pale, frightened face. Jess raised a hand to her tingling lips, absolutely stunned, a blush of total embarrassment sweeping over her face. The Joker stared hard at her, eyes suddenly furious and probing, looking her right in the face, craning his neck forward as though wanting to open her up and read her like a book.

Then, with a little growl of irritation, he pushed her shoulder away—slammed it back against the wall, really—and stalked toward the van, waving a hand at the men to get it started up and climbing into the passenger's seat.

Jess stood there for a while, back still pressed against the wall, mind furiously trying to unscramble this.

The Joker had just kissed her.

Okay.

She could understand that it had happened. She just couldn't for the life of her grasp _why_? Or _how_? And she couldn't _possibly_ begin to probe the scariest question of them all: _How did she feel about it_?

She had no idea. How was she _supposed_ to feel? She supposed she was a little annoyed at his presumptuousness and a little disgusted by the fact that he had _wanted_ to, but…

There was excitement there. And fear, of course there was that. And confusion. What did he mean by it? And there was surprise. She was still frozen here, wasn't she? Shocked by what had happened. And completely embarrassed that the others had seen.

But there was also this sort of… Well, she wouldn't describe it as happiness, because it _wasn't_ that. It _wasn't_. Oh, she was _far_ from happy. It was more like… butterflies. There were butterflies in her stomach, the same as when she had first kissed a boy in the seventh grade. And that same heightened state of feeling and emotion.

But he was the _Joker_!

Jess hitched, feeling sobs of confusion and dread boil in her chest.

No more than ten seconds had passed since the Joker had climbed into the van, but Jess felt as though she had spent a lifetime against that wall, not wanting to face the world. This meant everything had changed. That feeling of semi-normalcy, of sort of-safety, was entirely absent. She was lost and alone and scared again. Why did he have to _kiss_ her? Why, once again, did he have to ruin _everything_? It was like he got some sort of sick pleasure from it!

Jess was suddenly furious with him. How _dare_ he! She'd been trying to make the best of this but now...

Now she didn't know what to do anymore.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed away from the wall and ran to the van, hiding her face from Billy as she passed and climbed into the back. Jess spent the ride back concealing herself, and her tears, in the dark.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hola! I was quick this time, Ithankyou. Your reviews REALLY helped. I like those long, in depth ones, analyzing my story. Those are FUN and they make me go, "Yeah! Yeah! They GET it!"**

**So thanks for reading. I really hope you liked The Kiss... :)**

**Uhhhhm... This is a LONG one. LONG. Sorry if it bothers you but I think it's worth it. I just didn't know where to stop. **

**Listen to Gallery Piece by Of Montreal. It's good for this story, but also just do it because it RULES. Everything they do rules. **

**I am NOT going to get into an Of Montreal rules rant right now.**

**Okay. Reviews please! Love y'all! Bye!**

* * *

Jessica wanted to make a swift escape to her room upon their arrival back at the theater, determined not to let anyone ask her any questions. She jumped from the van and walked as fast as she could through the emergency exit, into the familiar smell of old wood, rot and men's cologne that was the theater.

Two men coming down the hall let out little yells, alerting the others that they were back, and ran towards her, already starting to ask questions about the job—had it been successful? Where had they gone? Where was Harvey Dent? Jess broke away from them, feeling the need to sob, and ran for her room while Billy and a few others spilled through the doors behind her. The men who had not been allowed to come along on this one immediately began interviewing them, but they, unfortunately, were much too concerned about Jess.

"Jessica!" Billy yelled after her.

She looked back only momentarily and felt a stab of guilt as she saw the anxiety on his face, then another stab as he was jostled by the men around him and he cringed, cradling his broken arm. She should go back to him, she thought, if only to let him know she cared that he was injured.

Sighing, knowing that the men would soon be cooing over her tear streaked cheeks, she turned around and started to trudge back to the large group forming near the door, unanswered questions flying through the air.

Then, suddenly, the assembly went silent and men started to back away, unknotting themselves, acting very casual. Jess immediately saw the reason for this. The Joker had entered, a dark look on his face, and was staring around silently at the Lucky Twenty.

Jess froze. She couldn't bear to have him even notice her, couldn't stand thinking about him kissing her. Blood rushed to her face and she turned away, once more making her way to her room.

She heard the Joker's voice as she left, but couldn't make out many words; she only recognized the tone. He was annoyed now, irritated that they hadn't done what they'd set out to do. The exhilaration of seeing Batman, battling with him, had worn off and he was once more in a foul mood. Jess wondered if she had anything to do with it.

She broke into a run down the darkened hallways, reaching her room and slamming the door, determined never to come out again.

* * *

"Jess…" A voice called through the door, soft and worried.

Jess had been buried under her blanket, just crying for the last hour, not wanting to face any of them. She couldn't leave the room because what if she saw _him_ out there in the halls? Her worst nightmare was that she'd have to meet him face to face on his terms. She just wanted to forget that he had ever kissed her.

As absurd as it was, she wished it would all go back to how it had been before. Everything was so damned complicated now.

"Jessica, let us come in." This voice was a bit harder, biting back a touch of anger. She thought it was probably Blake.

"What do you want?" she asked, trying to make her voice sound normal, as though she hadn't only just been sobbing into a pillow.

The door opened, as though that was an answer, and Billy and Blake spilled in, followed closely by Drew. They all stopped, staring at her, their expressions unreadable, all a little hard. Billy had a cast and splint on his forearm, Drew wore a long bandage down the side of his neck and Blake had ugly purple bruises forming from his chin to his temple. Jess sat up, a little shamed, and they regarded her silently for a long time. Finally, she couldn't stand it any more.

"What?" she snapped, looking up at them.

They all frowned like disappointed fathers and Billy sighed, taking a seat on the ground. Drew followed suit but Blake, arms crossed and lips compressed, stayed standing.

"We just wanna know something," Drew said, eyebrows knitted, looking down as though trying to pick his words. He took a deep breath and said the next phrase very slowly: "What _the hell_ do you think you're doing?"

Jess straightened up, frowning.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked coldly.

"Oh drop the shit, Jesster," Blake growled. "What kind of game are you playing? You think you can just cozy up to the boss like that? You think that won't get you killed?"

Rage flamed in Jess and she stood up from the cot suddenly, hands clenched in tight balls, fingers digging into her palms.

"I'm not playing _any_ games," she retorted coldly. "'_Cozying up'_ to him? What do you take me for?!"

"What the hell are we supposed to think?" Blake barked. "One second you're telling us all how much you hate him, the next you're dressed like _that_," he motioned to her now wrinkled, sweat stained dress, "and you're kissing him in an alleyway!"

"_He_ kissed _me_!" Jess yelled, tears springing to her eyes. "You think I _asked_ for that?!"

"Why _did_ he kiss you, Jess?" Billy said softly, a little bitterness in his tone. "Can you at least tell us _that_? Because we're all a little confused as of right now!"

"Join the fucking club!" Jess screamed. "I'm right there with you, Billy! You think I can even _begin_ to _understand_ that man? You think I know why he goes from giddy to calm to…" she searched for a word and snarled it ironically, "_romantic_ to angry? I don't fucking _know_ why he kissed me! I sure as hell didn't see it _coming_!"

"I didn't see you doing anything to stop it," Blake said, "so don't give me this bullshit about how awful it was. _Normal_ girls would've slapped him."

"I…" Jess took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, knowing that screaming at Blake would be no help. "I didn't know what to do…" She shook her head and stared hard at him. "He had a knife, Blake! And he is _not_ above cutting me."

Truth be told, until now Jess hadn't even considered the Joker's weapon. She had just been in such a state of shock that she hadn't moved. But the men wouldn't buy that, she felt. _They'd_ obviously never been kissed by the Joker.

"Oh, God," Blake said. "He wasn't gonna _cut_ you! He didn't even have his knife out."

Jess bit back a scream of rage.

"I'll tell him to ambush _you_ next time," she snapped, "since you have such a crush on him!"

"Don't start with me, kid," Blake warned.

Drew touched his leg and he looked down, blatantly making an effort to calm himself.

"Why _you_?" Billy asked in a sort of pained moan. "Why does someone like _you_ have to go through this?"

"What do you mean?" Jess asked, looking down in surprise.

Billy had his legs to his chest and was resting his head on them in defeat. His anger was gone. He just looked tired. Drew looked at Billy, too, and shook his head, apparently comprehending what he meant.

"You're just a kid," Drew said. "Not like us. We've talked about it. We've all made mistakes in our lives, ones we haven't made right. I kind of figure that's why the Joker chose us; we had chances and we blew them."

Jess shook her head. What was he _saying_? They'd been normal people before this, like her. What did he mean?

"You don't fit that pattern," Blake said, still a little hostile. "You're a chick, you're a kid, and I don't think you've done a bad thing in your life, at least not one you haven't tried to reconcile. So _why you_?!"

"Wait," Jess said, "what are you guys saying? What did you do to make the Joker pick you?"

The three men glanced at each other.

"You've got to understand," Billy said, "we've kept it from you so far because we didn't want you to think we weren't with you in this. We are, Jess. All the way."

"What are you talking about, Billy?" Jess asked. She was reaching a sort of contained hysteria now, her mind racing furiously as she tried to find a pattern in all of this.

"You thought we were… I dunno… Just regular Joes before all of this?" Blake asked. Jess frowned and nodded, but Blake turned his head slightly and his long, grotesque scar was suddenly lit up in the light from the bulb.

Things clicked into place and Jess had to steady herself against her cot.

The smiles, the acceptance, the loyalty towards the boss, the ability to aim and shoot, the few qualms against using or carrying a gun, Billy's lock-picks, Blake's scar… Why hadn't she seen it before?

The Lucky Twenty were criminals. All of them. Had been before ever stepping foot in Gotham.

They weren't average, law abiding citizens. They had more knowledge of the underground world of crime than she ever could've guessed.

She'd been putting her trust in them, assuming that there was no method to the Joker's madness, that he had just picked them off the street.

She'd been dead wrong.

"So…" she closed her eyes and gulped. "So, this organization… This is all pretty status quo for you guys, huh?"

Billy made a noise of pain and looked away.

"Sorry we didn't tell you, Jess," Drew said. "We didn't know what to think when you turned out to be the twentieth member. At first, we were as confused by the game as you were… But when we came here and found out what the boss wanted us to do, why he'd chosen us…" He laughed. "Some of the men thought you might be, like, a mob princess or something. But we got to know you and…" He shook his head.

"It's not fair," Billy said, his voice breaking. "It's not fair to you that you have to be here. You did _nothing_ to deserve this, Jess. And we're…" He looked down. "We're not fit to kiss the ground you walk on."

Blake made a noise of disgust.

"Oh come on!" he said. "We're not monsters! Jesus, we're still people, aren't we? Just because our areas of expertise before this included robberies and kidnappings doesn't mean we can't…" He looked at Jess and his eyes softened. "Doesn't mean we can't _feel_ something for the kid. It doesn't mean we don't want to protect her… We still have _souls_, Bill." He turned to her and made significant eye contact. "We're not _monsters_, Jess."

Jess looked away and shook her head.

"I just…" she took a deep breath. "I can't believe you _kept_ this from me."

"Sorry," Drew muttered.

"We thought it'd be better," Blake explained, "if you trusted us. We didn't think you would if you knew…"

"You're right," Jess said. "My faith would've been a lot harder to win had I known you were…" She paused and her lips pressed together angrily. "If I had known you were just like _him_."

With a groan, Billy put his forehead to his knees.

"We just wanted you to feel _safe_," Drew said. "You _are_ safe, Jess. We promise. We're not gonna hurt you or anything, not ever. And if anyone ever tries…"

"We'll kill them," Blake finished. Drew shot him a dirty look.

"I just wish you weren't here," Billy murmured into his knees.

"Me too," Jess said bitterly.

"So… still, there's that question… _Why'd_ he choose you?"

"You're _not_ a mobster… right?" Blake asked. Jess shook her head, almost managing a smile. "You've never killed a man?" Jess shook her head with a sour laugh. "Never did time?"

"Stop it," Drew said. "You're scaring her."

"So _why_?"

"I don't _know_!" Jess cried. "I'm about as enlightened as you three. Cross my heart. Why the Joker would ever want me in his gang is way beyond me."

"He probably gets his kicks out of messing with you," Drew said scathingly.

"If he ever touches you again I'll kill him," Billy murmured.

"Good luck," Blake said.

Jess looked down at Billy, a little touched by his genuine urge to protect her. Even given this horrible realization, even now knowing that she was surrounded by thieves and thugs and very likely a murderer or two, Jess found it difficult not to still place her trust in them. They'd been there for her, after all. They'd done all they could to protect and help her, to try to make her life here as comfortable as possible. They'd all shown genuine affection for her.

It was difficult to define them by what they were, even when she knew that distancing herself from them would be best. She just couldn't bring herself to be alone here.

"You all are horrible influences on me, you know that?" Jess said.

The three men chuckled, half out genuine amusement, half out of relief that she was well enough to be making jokes.

"Sorry about that," Blake said, "but it looks like you're gonna be stuck being influenced by us for quite a while."

Jess shook her head in defeat and shrugged.

"Better you than the Joker, I guess," she conceded.

* * *

After a while, Drew and Blake left the room and Billy slid up to sit next to Jess on her cot. Nothing was said—there was nothing either could really say—and after a few moments, Jess leaned over and put her head against Billy's shoulder. He stroked her hair softly.

"So, what're you in for?" she asked.

He let out a little laugh.

"Robbery," he said. "Lots of it. Too much. Con jobs, too." He shook his head. "I'm so sorry, Jess."

"It's okay," she replied.

"No," Billy said, "no, it's not. I can't explain it… I… you… You make me wanna _be_ better, you know? You make me wish I was just some normal guy who'd never held a gun in his life or broken in anywhere before this. I wish I was going through what you're going through."

"No you don't," Jess said, playing with the tips of her fingers. "It sucks."

Billy laughed.

"At least then you'd have someone."

Jess frowned and sat up, turning to look at Billy gravely.

"I do," she said, realizing it was true. "I do have someone. Even if you're not going through exactly what I am, you're still with me… Right?"

Billy smiled.

"Yeah," he said. "We all are."

Jess grinned, trying to look braver than she felt, and touched Billy's injured arm.

"Then I'll be okay," she said. "Who patched you up?"

"Alex," Billy replied. "He used to be a nurse."

Jess raised her eyebrows.

"At least we have _some_ kind of medical knowledge around here."

They sat together for a long moment, Jess unconsciously stroking Billy's cast with her finger. Her mind flew immediately to the Joker and the way he had kissed her, mulling it over, trying now that she was calmer to make some sense of it. She couldn't.

"Does everyone know?" she asked quietly.

Billy didn't have to ask what she meant. He heaved a great sigh and put an arm around her shoulders.

"The truth?" he asked. Jess nodded, bracing herself for the worst. "Yeah. Everyone knows."

Jess was quiet for a moment. She bit her lip and looked down, picking a string off of her dress.

"What do they think?"

Billy shrugged.

"Theories abound," he said. "Most of them know you didn't instigate it. Some are saying you and the boss have been together from the beginning. Some of them think he was just being giddy and unpredictable, that he meant nothing by it. Some of them aren't surprised. They say they figured from the beginning that he'd brought you here for that. Some of them just think he has the hots for you."

"And what do _you_ think?" Jess asked.

Billy sighed again.

"I dunno, Jess," he said. "It doesn't seem like him to do something like that. I've seen the way he treats you and in no way is there any tenderness there. I don't like it, obviously. I hate that he thinks he can just kiss you like that, like you're his property. I can't see him capable of any kind of real affection. So I don't know what I think. I just know that I don't want him to touch you again."

"You don't think this is… my fault, do you?" Jess asked.

Billy straightened and turned to stare at her, eyes extremely serious.

"How can anyone blame anything on you when the Joker is the obvious culprit?" he asked. "Don't even go down that road, Jess. No one thinks anything is your fault."

Jess smiled and settled against him again. From then on the subject was left behind. They talked over the party, the appearance of Batman—they agreed it had been the coolest thing they'd ever seen; neither had ever dreamed they would be going head on with an actual super hero—wondered who the woman had been, where Harvey Dent was, and whether or not this was part of the movie or if they were living some parallel series of events, changed from the film.

It got later and later and the events of the day started to take their toll on the pair of friends. Billy left the room when Jess fell asleep against his shoulder.

* * *

The next day, Jess rolled out of bed around noon. She hadn't realized, until practically passing out the night before, how tired the job had made her, so even with around seven hours of sleep on board she was still a zombie, getting up, washing and dressing in a daze.

Trying hard not to think about the night before, she threw the dress into the pile of clothes to be washed in the machine some of the men had gotten—now, she assumed, stolen. She ran a hand through her hair and mumbled sleepily to herself as she crossed the hall to the rec room, peeking in carefully to make sure any undesirables, namely the Joker, were absent.

He wasn't inside. Jess wasn't surprised. It was rare for him to ever be about before evening. She slid inside and was half way through pouring herself a bowl of cheerios before she noticed that most of the men were staring at her. A hot blush swept over Jess's face and she hurriedly dumped the dry cereal back into the box, suddenly not very hungry at all.

Immediately, thoughts flooded her brain and she couldn't focus on anything as she left the room, besides last night… The feel of the Joker's mouth, his exhilarated breath melding with hers, the imperfections of his lips…

Her face got even redder as she walked swiftly down the hall. Had she enjoyed it?

Looking back now, she supposed it hadn't been all bad… But there was no room to enjoy or not because mostly what the kiss had instilled in her was a very deep confusion. What did he want with her if the rest of the men were criminal? What had he meant by kissing her? _Why was she here_?!

"Dammit!" she grunted, punching a wall hard enough to leave red marks on her knuckles. She immediately brought her fist to her mouth and sucked the bruises forming there, eyes watering with the pain. Reminding herself not to do that again, she slid down the wall to sit on the floor, head hopelessly dropped between her legs.

A low laugh filled her ears suddenly and with a start she looked up, realizing that she was right across the way from the greenroom door, the Joker's "office." The door was closed, but she could see a dim light spilling out from beneath it and she could hear the low voice of a man and scattered laughter.

He was in there. Talking to himself.

Jess stared at the door, a little mesmerized, compellingly interested in what he was doing. Making plans? No, that didn't seem like him. Most likely he was just carrying on his own special little conversation. Crazy. Totally crazy.

Then Jess had a thought. The Joker was relatively straight forward, certainly in your face. He left no room for hesitation or elusion. What if…

It was crazy, but what if Jess turned the tables on him? What if she barged in there, demanding to know what the hell he had been doing kissing her last night, asking why she was here and how he had picked her?

She stood up, suddenly very determined, deliberately not thinking her plan all the way through in the fear that she would doubt herself. She _knew_ she would. This was crazy. And stupid. But, God… She wanted to know! She _needed_ to know! And right now the Joker was the one with all the answers. Somehow she couldn't let him have that power over her.

He laughed again when she touched the doorknob and she jerked back, startled, but when nothing happened, she once again gripped the knob.

Suddenly, the door was thrown open from the inside and the Joker was there in the doorframe, half shadowed in the dim light from the hall. Jess gasped in surprise and he looked down at her, his own eyes widening a bit when he connected who she was, then reached out for her immediately. Before she knew what was happening, he had dragged her into the room by both arms, slammed the door behind them and thrown her roughly on the couch.

Jess sat up, trying to collect herself as he stood before her, breathing a little more heavily than usual. He seemed to be wrestling with himself. His mouth moved silently, forming words only he could hear and he fingered the little paring knife he always kept up his sleeve in one of his hands. His other hand was balled into a rigid fist.

After a second or two licked his lips and tilted his head back as though in exasperation, cracking his neck. Jess decided to speak.

"Well," she said, smoothing her shirt, trying really hard not to seem as terrified as she was, "that was kind of a rude greeting."

The Joker growled and turned his back on her, striding quickly to the door and wrenching it open, holding it there, obviously indicating that she could leave now if she wanted. Jess wasn't sure what he meant by this. He had dragged her inside, which probably meant he didn't want her to leave right away. Perhaps he just assumed, after his reaction to her, that she would want to get out as soon as possible. But it wasn't like him to be considerate.

Once more, the man was being an enigma. She wondered if he meant to.

She shook her head slowly and the Joker stared at her with hard eyes, then carelessly shut the door. He paced up to where she was still seated on the couch but hung back a bit, keeping his distance as though she were a skittish animal. This suited Jess just fine. She wrapped her arms around herself protectively and carefully met his eyes. There was no expression on his face—none that she could see behind the makeup, anyway—and his stance gave nothing away, either.

She hated when he was like this. She never knew how he would react to what she was saying.

"Hi," she muttered.

The Joker said nothing, just waited for more. He obviously wasn't going to be any help. If she wanted answers, she'd have to ask for them herself. Still… she couldn't just come out and _say _it! Awkward.

"How are you?" she asked instead.

The Joker tilted his head slightly and stared at her a little harder. He wasn't stupid. She knew that. He _knew_ there was something on her mind. She wouldn't have come here if there hadn't been.

Jess sighed. There was nothing else for it. She reached down and picked a piece of string from her t-shirt, trying to look nonchalant.

"I talked to Billy," she said.

Silence from above. She kept looking down at her clothing, not wanting to face him.

"He told me that everyone in the Lucky Twenty was some kind of criminal when you got in touch with them… everyone but me."

The Joker cleared his throat.

"_Yeah_…?" he said.

Jess looked up at him.

"So…" she said, "I mean… I was just wondering…" She bit her lip. "Why me?"

The Joker didn't react. He looked as though the question had been one he had been expecting.

"Why not?" was all he said.

Jess stared at him.

"You're kidding," she said. The Joker's lip twitched in amusement. At the look of mirth on his face, anger suddenly exploded in Jess and she curled her hands into fists, standing up boldly. "Why _not_?" she asked rhetorically. The Joker raised his eyebrows. "Why _not_?! That's your excuse for bringing me here?! _That's_ why you ripped me away from regular life? Because you figured _why not_?! That's the worst reason I've ever heard. That's cruel! Sadistic! That's… that's _evil_, you bastard! You stupid, crazy _clown_, you…"

The Joker had been laughing under his breath at her since her outburst had started, but at the word crazy the smile flew from his lips and he rushed her, pulling her face to him, his knife digging into her cheek.

"You'll wanna be _very_ careful right now," he said quietly.

Jess whimpered, cursing herself for her harsh words. Why couldn't she just keep in her head that he was a dangerous person?! Now he was going to kill her. Perfect. Super. _Just great, Jessica._

The Joker looked at her, eyebrows raised as though he was making sure she understood, then leaned towards her, looking quickly to either side, mouth open, trying to find words. He whispered into her ear.

"You're not very good at keeping out of trouble." Breaking away to make eye contact, the Joker gave her a significant look and took his hands from her face. Jess would have sighed in relief had he not kept his knife hovering very near her temple. "Sometimes," he said, looking around, "I wonder if you don't have a death wish. Hmm?" Jess shook her head vigorously, eyes straying towards the blade. He closed his eyes briefly. "Then _why_," he hissed, "don't you ever think before you _talk_?"

"I'm sorry," Jess squeaked.

The Joker let out a sudden giggle.

"Oh," he said, chuckling. "Oh, of _course_ you are, Jesster. You're _sorry_. Sorry, sorry, sorry!" His hands flew up to emphasize his point and Jess flinched, ducking away from him and pressing herself back against the couch, eliciting more laughter from the Ace of Knaves. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe _you_ weren't part of any _plans_?" he asked. "That maybe _you_ were the curve ball? Hmm? Did you never stop to wonder whether or not I really _cared_ who you were, as long as you were _different_?!"

And then Jess understood. The Joker didn't have to have a reason for what he did. He just _did_ it. With the rest of the Lucky Twenty he'd had a formula, a function for each of them. With her, it seemed that he had suddenly decided to include a girl, a _regular_ person, and see what he could do with her.

_She_ was the social experiment, she realized. Not the men. _Her_.

She stared up at him with challenging eyes, already forgetting the fear that had just gripped her.

"Ok. I'll buy that. But could you just tell me _one_ thing?" she asked. The Joker raised his eyebrows and smiled. "Why the hell would you _ever_ think I'd want you to kiss me?"

He'd anticipated that. She could see that. He'd expected her to challenge him and bring up the kiss. And she expected his response.

It almost came as a relief when she felt the sting of his knife across her collarbone. In a flash he had charged her, grabbed her long hair and pulled it back to keep her still, then slashed a long, deep cut across her shoulder. The pain of the injury made her determination to fight him stronger still, and she sent out both arms, trying to push him away roughly.

He was very strong, however, and the hand that had only recently been pulling her hair came down to twist her wrists together and around, pulling her arms into unnatural positions. Jess let out a strangled scream and tried to stomp on his foot, but the Joker readily kneed her in the gut and forced her to sit back on the couch while she doubled over in pain. One knee planted sturdily on her leg, pinning her to the couch with no lack of vigor, he leaned over and looked her directly in the eyes.

"You _do_ have a death wish, don't you _Jesster_?" he said.

Jess felt the cut on her shoulder throb and a large drop of blood slid down her chest. The Joker noticed her squirm of discomfort and heartlessly jabbed his thumb into the wound, making her yell out loud in pain.

"Y'know, you don't seem to _understand_ the gravity of the situation!" His voice was that bizarre, hysteric giggle he adopted when his efforts were causing him excitement. "Let me spell it out for you." He licked his lips and pressed his thumb once more into the gash, forcing a strangled moan of pain from Jessica. "You are alone in a dark room with a man," he smiled, "_me_. I have a knife, Jesster. And you are _really_ starting to just…" he clenched his bloody hand in the air, "_annoy_ me."

He brought his knife up to her mouth, pushing it between her lips, pressing it into the skin at one corner. Jess could taste her own blood from the cut at her collar and felt a surge of panic, adrenaline, as she realized what he was ready to do. She thought back on the days past, on the weeks before that and the months before that. Of the time when she had never even heard his voice.

No. She wouldn't let him destroy her life, then take it from her.

She _couldn't_.

Riding that wave of adrenaline, Jess acted without thinking, taking control of the first thing she could think of in an effort to save her life. In one smooth movement, she wrenched back, getting the knife out of her mouth with only a small cut at the corner, and in the same swift movement plunged forward, straight for her target.

This time, it was the Joker's turn to freeze as their lips met. His knife stabbed into the back of the couch as Jess grabbed his head, pulling his face forward for a rough, unexpected kiss.

The way to survive, she'd come to know, was to be unpredictable.

The Joker was only shocked for a moment. He ripped away from her before she could get the chance to do any real kissing and stared at her for just a second, breathing heavily, before his hand was fisted in her hair and his lips were one hers again.

This was weird.

Jess felt as though she were in a dream as the Joker kissed her, disconnected from her body. He was frantic this time, errant, and his mouth moved over hers with no pattern or reason to them. His lips were scarred and the texture was something unique, something she'd never felt before, nor would she ever forget. She could feel, at the sides of his mouth, the raised patterns of skin but somehow they didn't seem so grotesque anymore.

She allowed her head to drop back, opening herself up to him, giving in without meaning to. Truth be told, Jess simply wasn't thinking anymore. It was so overwhelming. All she knew now was that it was nice to have some real human contact.

Before she knew it, the kiss had deepened. The Joker's hands were clenching her hips and his mouth was open.

He was really pretty good, she thought absurdly. Had it been someone else, she would have thoroughly enjoyed it; the intensity was totally there. The kiss was heated, _real_, and she wished she'd experienced more kisses like it.

As it was, the whole thing scared her… she thought.

Her heart pounded in her chest but she was starting to question if it was just from fear. Her back was arched but was it only because she wanted to get away? Did she _even_ want to get away?

The Joker's hands shifted slightly, bunching up her shirt a little, hot against the skin at her waist. She hadn't realized that her hands were around his neck, but they were, and the sound of his quickened breathing in turn quickened hers.

Okay. That was enough. She _had_ to get away, and soon, or things were going to go from bad to worse. She couldn't even really remember why she had kissed him, anymore. It seemed hard to believe that he had only minutes ago been threatening her life, the way his lips pressed against hers as though he needed to taste all of her that he could.

Then one of his hands skimmed over her shoulder, calling to life the little sting from the paring knife. Jess stiffened as she remembered that _he_ had done that to her.

With a hard shove, he was off her. She glared at him, heart racing, trying to kill him with her eyes as though everything—her own inner conflicts, her terror, her confusion—was his fault.

OH WAIT.

It _was _all his fault!

Jess wanted to hit him.

His makeup was even more smudged than before, the red from his lips extremely faded.

Had _she _done that? Had she just recently been kissing him… and _liking_ it?! What was going on? How did she feel? She hated him, right? _Right_?!?

The worst thing of all was that she wasn't sure anymore.

Jess let out a strangled cry of rage and stood up. The Joker stared at her, confused and amused, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Jess tried not to see how sexy he looked like this: rumpled in the good way, chest heaving, hair tousled.

She let out another angry scream and pushed past him, hearing his silent giggles turn into loud laughter as she ran from the room, tears of fury and defeat pouring down her face.


	15. Chapter 15

**Woo hoo! Hope everyone had very happy holidays! I got a laptop so this thing will be a lot easier!**

**Sorry about the bit of a wait but all good things take time, right? I have so many ideas of what I want to do with this story, and in the chapters to come we're going to be very busy getting it to where I want it.**

**Listen to Caring is Creepy by the Shins. Don't know why but that song never fails to get me in the mood for writing this. A lot of it is something I imagine the Joker saying to Jess or the lives of the twenty, especially the line "Never betray the way you've always known it is."**

* * *

Nothing was ever very easy or convenient any more.

All Jess wanted to do was sneak quietly into her room and hide from the world for the rest of her life. But of course it wouldn't be that simple.

She slammed into Billy less than thirty seconds after leaving the green room.

"Jess!" Billy grabbed her wrists and she immediately started to struggle past him, not wanting him to see that, once more, she was crying. She hid her face behind her hair and attempted to rip her arms away from him, hysteria growing with every moment he battled her. She didn't realize she was sobbing until he pulled her into a comforting hug, whispered her name and stroked her hair, let her cry into his shoulder.

The sound of their scuffle had attracted more attention, the last thing Jessica wanted at the time, but down the hall tromped Blake, stopping short when he reached the crying Jessica.

"What'd you do to her this time," she heard Blake ask angrily.

She could only imagine the look on Billy's face as he glared at the other man.

"What happened, Jess?" Billy asked softly, burying his face in her hair. "What's wrong? Did you run into _him_?"

Jess only nodded, moaning in anguish, but she slowly pushed herself away from him, wanting to look him in the eyes and tell him that she was alright, no need to worry, sorry for the scare. She was just tired and last night had been hard. That's all. Nothing else happened.

She wanted to lie.

But she never got the chance, because what happened next… well…

It was kind of funny.

Jess backed away a bit and Billy smiled at her, brushing the curtain of tangled hair from her face, eyes flicking down briefly to the gash at her collar bone, fists clenching when he saw it but thankfully saying nothing. Then he met her eyes and Jess tilted her head up, about to tell him she was okay.

But the horror on his face stopped her. He stood frozen, his expression changed from one of soft comfort to complete disbelief, disgust. He stared at her as though she was some kind of mutant or monster or something.

As soon as Blake caught a glimpse of whatever Billy saw, he threw his head back in exasperation and muttered, "You've gotta be kiddin' me…" and turned away, laughing bitterly as though this was all simply absurd.

Billy wasn't laughing, however. He'd taken a step away, his face shocked and appalled, staring at the area around Jess's mouth in complete revulsion.

Jess was lost. She put a hand to her mouth. Had she suddenly sprouted fangs or something?

"Oh, Jesus, Jess…" Billy muttered, shoulders slumped, completely at a loss for words. "What the hell…Why? Oh man… Jess…"

"What an _interesting_ turn of _events_…" The words came from behind them, mirth dripping on every syllable.

Startled, Billy, Blake and Jess turned towards the speaker, Jess's heart leaping when she saw the Joker standing casually in the doorway to the greenroom a yard away, smirking slightly, extensively amused by Billy. Then, a wave of dread and nausea washed over her.

They couldn't _know_, could they?

How could they possibly know?

There was a moment of silence as each person eyed the others. The Joker folded his arms across his chest and leaned indifferently against the doorframe when Billy turned on him, fists clenched furiously.

"Why couldn't you just leave her the _hell alone_?" he demanded, voice shaking.

The Joker's mouth split into a wide grin and Jess once more noticed how diminished the red makeup around his lips was, all smeared and blotted partially away.

Suddenly, she gasped in dismay and slapped a hand to her mouth, wondering, dreading, if his makeup had transferred to her own mouth.

"Poor, poor _Billy_," the Joker taunted, giggling a little. "Always the bridesmaid, never the bride."

Billy launched into action at this rather bizarre insult, suddenly more furious than Jess had ever seen him. He threw himself at the Joker violently and slammed him against the doorframe, the collar of his shirt balled up in his fist. The Joker was taller than Billy and Jess was fairly sure he could have fought back rather easily, but instead of making a move to push Billy off, he started giggling in delight, hands up in mock surrender. His laugh taunted Billy further and he brought up a fist to…

Jess didn't know. Punch the Joker?

That surely would have gotten him into trouble had Blake—wonderful, powerful Blake—not intervened.

Before Billy did something to get himself killed, Blake had pulled him off of the Joker, holding him back by the arms, patting his shoulder with one large hand, trying to calm him. The Joker looked a little disappointed by this but he simply adjusted the collar of his shirt and watched darkly as Blake held the struggling young man back.

Finally, Billy tugged himself out of Blake's hands, but instead of going for the Joker again he turned and made a beeline at Jess, grabbing the back of her neck and steering her roughly down the hall, away from all of this. Not wanting to cause more trouble, Jess hurried along, listening for the inevitable howls of mirth that were sure to come from the doorway of the greenroom.

But they never came.

The Joker wasn't laughing.

* * *

Billy hurried Jess towards the women's bathroom at the end of the corridor, lips pressed tightly together all the time, and when they got to the door he shoved her forcibly inside, closing the door after them and steering her to the mirror by the shoulders. Jess had no choice but to come face to face with her reflection.

It was much worse than she'd imagined. She had no idea how Billy hadn't noticed right away. Not only was her hair tousled, mussed up, and her lips swollen, the small cut the Joker had given her at the corner of her mouth still letting out little drops of blood, but the whole lower half of her face, from her nose down, was smeared with faded red and white greasepaint.

Jess screamed in anger and frustration as soon as she saw it, pushing away from Billy and the mirror and kicking a stall so hard the weak, rusting door bent off the hinges. She suddenly found herself hysterical, unable to keep down the temper tantrum that was starting to blow through her system. Blood pounded in her ears and her pulse was beating so hard she couldn't even hear herself scream, "Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my fucking GOD!!" over and over. She ran up to the mirror and clawed wildly at her own face, trying to wipe the makeup off, finally slamming on the water and splashing it hectically into her visage. She was letting out strangled half screams, sobbing, unable to see herself through the hot tears in her eyes. She'd never been so embarrassed, nor could she ever remember being so angry, all her hot white hatred focused directly at the clown now probably smugly reapplying his makeup down the hall.

She screamed again and slammed her fist into the mirror, without effect, as she pictured his smiling face.

Her tantrum was winding down now, her sense returning, and she caught sight of Billy in the mirror, torn between terrified at her reaction—obviously he'd never been around to witness an angry young woman before and had no idea how to deal with it—and just as angry and disappointed as he'd been in the hall.

Jess grabbed a handful of paper towels, wet them and scrubbed her face hard until all traces of makeup, his and hers, were erased and her cheeks and mouth were just bright red from rubbing, the cut at the side of her mouth bleeding freshly. She wadded a few more towels and pressed them to the stinging incision at her collar bone, then sighed and looked away from the mirror, down to where the sink was stained red and white.

Neither Billy nor Jess had any idea what to say, so for a long time they just stood there in silence while Jess wept quietly, clenching the sink to keep herself upright.

Finally, Billy cleared his throat nervously.

"Wanna talk about it?" he asked, once more soft and strong.

Jess turned around to him slowly and walked forward to rest her head on his shoulder. With no hesitation, he rested a hand on her upper back and stroked her messy hair. This was why she loved Billy.

"It started off as self defense," she explained shakily, knowing it sounded ridiculous. Billy frowned, but didn't ask. "Then… I don't know… I guess we both got carried away."

This time, Billy did scoff. He slowly nudged her away so that he could look into her eyes.

"Carried away?" he asked in disbelief. "You realize what you just said to me, Jessica?"

Jess looked down, a hot blush of shame flaming her cheeks.

"I know it sounds crazy, Billy…"

"Yeah, crazy," Billy agreed. "And just fucking _stupid_. You don't get 'carried away' kissing the Joker. You just don't _do_ that!"

Jess ran a hand through her hair.

"I forgot who he was," she said, because that was the only way she could think to possibly begin to explain it to him.

Billy threw his head back in disdain.

"You _forgot_," he repeated. "Somehow I find that difficult to _grasp_, Jessica."

"Why won't you just _believe me_?!" Jess cried at him.

"Why won't _you_ just _tell the truth_?!" Billy snapped. Jess flinched and Billy threw an arm out in angry gesticulation. "For _once_, Jess!" he said. "Why can't you just tell me the truth?!"

"Because you'd never _understand_!" Jess screamed.

That shut him up. Billy back away from her, leaning against the wall, staring at her in silence.

Jess went on. "You'd never _get_ it, Billy!" she exclaimed. "You don't know what it's been like for me! Like you said, none of you have _any_ idea what I'm going through. I mean, Jesus, before this I was going to _high school_! I'd never done an illegal thing in my life besides smoking pot in my friend's basement! Now, all of a sudden, I'm in Gotham, a place I assumed didn't exist, and I'm aiding in every crime from… I dunno… sneaking into a courthouse to do _God_ knows what, to attempting to find and kidnap the district attorney! It's a little overwhelming! And on top of all of that, I'm the only girl I've talked to in weeks!"

She took a deep breath, looking around frantically for some way to help her, but finding none. She couldn't stop talking now. She needed it out.

"And then, here you come, Billy. Sweet, supportive Billy, my rock, my best friend, the string that ties me to earth. I _leaned_ on you, Billy. I depended on you more than I could say. And then…" she sobbed, "I find out you've been _lying_. And everything I've ever been taught about criminals is turned on its head because you _are_ one and you're also the best friend I've ever had." At Billy's confused, contrary look, Jess added, "It's true. You can't know, but it's true. So, I'm thinking… How do I feel about the fact that the Joker kissed me last night?"

"You have to _think_ about how you feel?" Billy asked.

Jess stared at him and he looked down, giving her leave to go on.

"So I'm thinking about it," she said, "and I'm disgusted because he's a criminal, an anarchist, a crazy villain. But, then, you know… to a lesser extent…" she looked up into Billy's eyes, "so are you. So are all of the Lucky Twenty. So are all of the people that I've grown to love. So the fact that he's a criminal is no longer a basis on which I can be disgusted by him. And when that disgust was gone, I come to realize…"

Jess stopped, not knowing what else to say. There was nothing conclusive in the way she felt about the Joker.

"I don't know," she said. "I don't know how I feel in his regard. And that opens the opportunity for a lot of things to happen. I mean, sure I find him attractive… past the scars he's _really_ not bad… And I _know_ he interests me. And then he threatened my life and all I can think is, 'Kiss him. Kiss him and distract him or die.' So I do. And then all these conflicting feelings rush me and I'm so busy trying to figure them out that before I know it, it's gone farther than I wanted it to, and he's more than distracted by me and I'm more than just trying to distract him…" Jess sighed. "And that's the story. Does that clear up any questions?"

She looked up at Billy, who was slowly shaking his head.

"Absolutely not," he said. "You're like him. I can't even begin to fathom what's going on behind those eyes. I do know that girls are weird and I'm glad I wasn't born one."

Jess half laughed, half sobbed.

"I think I'm starting to go crazy," she said.

Billy nodded.

"No doubt of that," he said, his tone playful. "You're crazy as a loon."

Jess smiled and rested her head on his shoulder when he came forward and put his uninjured arm around her. They sat there for a moment together, both silent. Then, Billy took a deep breath.

"You really think the Joker's attractive?"

Jess choked on her laughter.

"Why?" she asked playfully. "Jealous?"

"No!" Billy insisted, then, "… Yes… Maybe… I don't know. It's complicated." Jessica laughed and gave him a squeeze. "This situation sucks, Jess," he said, "but thanks. I'm just as confused as you at this point and pretty grossed out that you sucked face with the clown," Jess wasn't sure whether or not to be angry at that, "but, hey… We all have our own tastes, right? Unfortunately for me, you like the insane comic book villains."

Jess shook her head.

"Not really," she said. "I'm nowhere near liking him."

Billy leaned away from her, meeting her eyes seriously.

"You sure?" he said.

Jess looked away, wishing he hadn't asked her that. He took her silence in stride, however, and hugged her close again. They sat in the bathroom like that for a long time, each trying to sort out the future, each failing miserably.

* * *

Jess and Billy trudged back to the rec room after a bit, knowing that by now everyone would know. Blake believed that what one man knew, the rest should since they were a group, a family, a gang like the one Blake came from. Sure enough, as soon as Jess entered the room many of the men fell quiet and looked closely at her face for any trace of the Joker's lipstick. She rolled her eyes at them and headed to the kitchen section, realizing how hungry she was and once more reaching for the cheerios, determined not to let their curious looks get to her.

One of the men, a guy named Powers, leaned, smiling, against the counter beside her.

"How was last night for you, Jesster?" he asked.

Jess found that she didn't even really mind them calling her that anymore. It was inevitable. She gave him a nonchalant smile.

"Pretty fun," she said honestly. "I mean, there were parts I could've gone without but the whole evening was pretty cool."

"Isn't it a blast?" Powers asked, taking a sip of the beer he was holding. "Crime. What a rush. Hear you saw the Batman."

Jess nodded and shrugged. Truth be told, she hadn't really thought about the Batman since last night. A lot had happened.

"It was cool," she said. "He's huge. And dresses in black. And he mauled Billy's arm. What else is there to say?"

"Ah, come on," Powers said. "I've heard you gush about wanting to meet him. And you're unimpressed now?"

Jess smiled and leaned back, taking a bite of her cereal.

"I guess the idea of the Batman is more impressive than the real thing."

At that moment, the Joker walked in the room and turned his eyes on her, amused, obviously having heard this last statement. Jess stared at him defiantly.

"It's a bit like with the Joker," she said, eyes flicking back to Powers. "At first you're impressed. But after a while you realize he's just kind of… real."

It wasn't an insult, not really, but it was something. Jess looked back at the Joker, not sure if he had been listening or not. He was busy ushering through the door two men whom Jess had never seen before, both a little shifty looking, glancing around nervously, uncomfortably. Jess frowned and stepped forward, curious.

The Joker turned towards the room at large. The rest of the twenty had also noticed the two newcomers, and they were gathering around them, muttering theories on who they could be and why they were here.

The Joker's makeup had not been reapplied, Jess noticed. The area around his lips and cheeks was still smeared and diminished. Great. Now all she was going to be able to think about was kissing him.

"Hello, gentlemen," he said, smiling widely around at the group. "I, uh… I have some _friends_ I want you to meet…" he clapped the two strangers' shoulders and they flinched at his touch but didn't move away. They reminded Jess of how she had been when she had first met the Joker: terrified but simultaneously, morbidly interested, drawn to him. The Joker ran a hand through his hair and licked his lower lip. "They're, uh…" he smiled, "from _Arkham_."

Jess let out a little gasp. These men were Arkham patients? Lunatics?

Jess didn't like that. Not one bit.

The rest of the Twenty didn't react as Jess did. They took this news, digested it, but stayed silent, listening now that he was talking. They knew better than to interrupt.

"They're gonna help us," the Joker went on, "with killing _Dent_."

"You know where he is, boss?" a man named Jonny Frost asked.

The Joker turned to smile at him.

"_Sure_ I do," he said. "_Sure_. He's sitting in his big, cozy chair in one of the highest, most secure buildings in Gotham."

"So how do we get to him?"

The Joker closed his eyes briefly, a flash of annoyance registering on his face. Jess stiffened. He could do _anything_, go either way when he was in a mood like this. One never knew whether he would snap, go insane and kill someone or laugh loudly, highly amused.

"We're not getting _him_," the Joker said, lip curling at the corner. "Not tonight."

Jess hoped the questions would stop. He was getting seriously annoyed.

Thankfully, the Lucky Twenty saw this and no one said another word. The two men from Arkham shifted uncomfortably.

"_So_," the Joker went on, not enlightening anyone about their real plans tonight (not that Jess was sure they were fully formed at all. But she _did_ know she wanted to go along) "These two _fine_ _gentlemen_," he once more brought the attention back to the lunatics, "are Melvin White," he clapped the long haired, heavy set man staring blankly into the distance to his left on the shoulder, "and Thomas Schiff."

Schiff was taller, gaunt, with heavy dark circles under his eyes and shaggy hair. He looked paranoid, and his eyes darted everywhere, tongue flicking out and licking his lips. He reminded Jess a bit of the Joker and she wondered what flavor of insanity his was, because certainly the Joker shared that in common with him, at least to an extent.

"And now," the Joker said, looking around, "to business. We need a good group tonight, gentlemen. Who wants to come along? Hmm?"

Slowly, hands began to raise in the group. Jess noticed Blake, of course, and Laurence put their arms in the air. Then, to the surprise of everyone who saw, including her, Jess raised her hand too. Yes, she wanted to go. But until now she hadn't realized just how _much_ she wanted it.

The Joker, as though he had been watching her out of the corner of his eye for the last while, immediately turned her way and smiled, then dismissed the Lucky Twenty after choosing four or five of them besides Jess. The group filtered out the door and Jess hung back to finish her cheerios while the rec room was slowly emptied.

* * *

After cleaning her bowl and putting away the cereal, Jess made her way down the halls, first to laundry room to grab her dress which, thankfully, had found its way into the wash and then to her little prop closet to grab her makeup.

Not bothering to turn on the light, Jess seized her bag and turned back to start to head for the bathroom, suddenly coming face to face with Blake, leaning casually against her doorframe.

"Hey there, Jesster," he said, smiling.

Jess grinned back at him, shuffling her feet a little nervously. There was something odd about the way Blake was looking at her right now, a little hungrily, as though she was a meal he'd gladly partake of, and it made her sort of anxious without knowing why. This was _Blake_ after all. He'd never been anything less than a friend. He was nothing to be scared of. It was just the way that the backlight from the hallway lit up the grotesque scar on his face… That was a little frightening. But there was no reason Jess should want to get out of there as fast as she suddenly did.

"What's the haps, Blakey?" she asked, a little too lightly.

Blake grinned wolfishly, glancing down to the makeup bag in her hands.

"On your way to the bathroom?" he asked, also a little too casual.

Jess frowned, wondering what was in his mind.

"Uh… Yeah," she said, showing him the dress in her other hand to emphasize her point. "Gotta get all ready for tonight…" Blake nodded, but said nothing. Jess raised her eyebrows. "So… I'm just gonna go…"

She walked forward, pushing past Blake in the doorway, but his large hand closed around her upper arm and he turned her around abruptly to push her back into the doorframe. Jess had sort of expected this, so it didn't come as too much of a shock. But that still didn't tell her what the hell Blake wanted.

"What are you doing?" she asked, trying to shake his hand off.

He planted a palm firmly on the wall at the side of her head and leaned closer, pinning her there with his body. She placed her hands on his chest to try to push him off with absolutely no effect and he smiled.

"You don't _really_ want the boss, do you?" he asked.

Jess struggled again but the man was massive, almost as tall and solid as Batman.

"Blake, what the hell?" she asked, laughing a little, trying not to be creeped out.

Blake put a hand on her jaw and raised her head to him.

"I mean, the guy can't be good for you," Blake said.

Jess looked past him to the hallway, praying for a rescue.

"I don't really want to talk about this," she muttered.

Blake smiled.

"Fine, fine," he said. "We don't have to talk. But as long as everyone's putting their cards on the table, I might as well throw mine in for consideration, too."

Jess frowned, confused, and suddenly Blake had swooped down and kissed her, his mouth firm and pressing, pushing her back into the doorframe. His lips opened slightly, but Jess kept her mouth firmly shut, trying to give him a hint while his hands went possessively to her hips. She made a noise of opposition and turned away roughly, hands flying out, pushing his chest away so that he stumbled back. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"What the hell are you doing, Blake?!" she cried angrily.

Blake opened his mouth to retort when, from behind them, in Jess's room, they heard a distinct, low chuckle.

"Ouch, ouch, ouch," the Joker's voice said from the shadows in the prop room. He stepped forward slowly, regarding the two of them almost carefully, a smirk playing over his lips. "That must _sting_. _Really_. Not even _I_ got that reaction out of her."

Blake's jaw clenched tightly and his fists curled into balls but he said nothing, just glanced at Jess--standing mortified in the same position--and then turned and stalked away. Jess groaned and put a hand to her eyes, trying to rub away the horror of what had just happened. She didn't put much stock into what Blake had just done--he was one of those people who just loved to compete, and if that meant for Jess, so be it--but the fact that the Joker had seen and heard it all made her want to explode.

Before she could get away and hide from him, the Joker had crossed the rest of the way through the room and now stood before Jess, taking Blake's previous position. She closed her eyes and waited for his witty, scalding remark, but he said nothing and she felt a gentle tug on her hair.

Her eyes flew open and she found him staring at a lock of her blonde curls, playing with it, twisting it softly around his finger. His expression was calm, almost tender, but when he noticed her looking that expression vanished and he pulled her hair down so that it hurt a little, smiling at her maliciously.

"So, Jesster…" he said, his other hand reaching down to clutch at her hipbone.

Jess let him kiss her, beyond the point of caring or trying to work this out. All she knew right now was that when the Joker kissed her--although she was half terrified of him killing her and half exhilarated--she didn't mind, but when Blake tried she immediately wanted to get away.

Oh God, what was _wrong_ with her?!

This kiss was not tender, but nor was it frantic. It was open but nice, deep but not wet. One of the Joker's gloved hands cradled her neck and the other tapped her hipbone gently.

They kissed silently in the doorway for about a minute, but as the time went by, Jess could feel the Joker start to get agitated. His gentle hand on her hip began to tap out a rapid tattoo and he started rocking back and forth and up and down a little, as though he was torn between wanting to pull away and wanting to force her back into the room to continue.

Jess knew he was torn because, honestly, she was torn, too. A part of her mind screamed at her to shove him off while another part reminded her how nice his hands and lips felt.

Finally, the Joker broke away, breathing a little harder than usual, and slapped the doorframe a few times with his hand, giggling and making a little jump in the air.

Jess watched him without flinching and he laughed again, pushing his greasy hair away from his eyes and spinning around. He took her by the shoulders and gave her a little shake so she met his eyes.

"Does this mean we're _friends_, Jesster?" he asked, voice thick with laughter.

Then, he leaned down and gave her another rough kiss on the mouth, pulling away and laughing hysterically. He turned and walked off, still chuckling madly. Jess leaned back against the wall to catch her breath, watching him, confused. She couldn't understand that man.

Shaking her head, Jess decided to head towards the bathroom, wondering how much makeup was smeared onto her face this time.


	16. Chapter 16

**HEEEEEYYYYYYY!!!**

**Wow. Once again, this took a long time. I'm sort of between huge events right now, but these chapters are gonna be super important in developing J and J's relationship. They'll be here and they'll be good, but they might take a little while to write.**

**I'm not going to abandon this story, just so you all know. So don't worry about that. It's just me being busy.**

**If character or anything is a little off, let me know and help me fix it. As always, thank you SO MUCH for your amazing reviews and favorites. I love you all.**

**And, I swear to God, every time I recieve a review in my email I write at least another paragraph in this. So keep sending them! I love them!**

**Listen to Pink Bullets by the Shins. It's... It's really kind of perfect for Joker's thoughts on Jess. And Passive by A Perfect Circle is the definitive song for the Joker/Batman fight.**

**This chapter has some drug and alcohol use in it. So, maybe consider it rated M.**

* * *

The van sped along the streets of Gotham, the glow of the streetlamps outside just blurs of white in the falling darkness of evening. No one in the cab said a word; not to question where they were going or what they were going to do when they got there. Jess sat, white knuckled hands clenching at the sides of her short dress, anxious and excited about the coming job.

The Joker was driving the vehicle tonight and she had scored a front seat, far better than sitting the ride through in the blackness of the back. The only downside was that she had to deal with the Joker's presence, especially as she had been forced beside him by Jonny, who now occupied the passenger seat.

They pulled up beside a long row of apartments on 8th street and hustled out of the car into the cold air above the sidewalk. Jess shivered slightly when a breeze whipped by, goose bumps raising on the exposed skin of her legs, and watched the Joker climb from behind the wheel, casually adjusting the collar of his shirt and looking darkly at the entrance to the building.

"Here," someone beside her muttered, bumping her arm with a piece of cold metal. She turned to Drew, standing at her elbow, and frowned when she noticed that he was trying to hand her a handgun.

"I don't know how to use that," she said, backing away a bit. No way did she want to carry a gun. That was a little _too_ real. But Drew persisted, holding it out to her. Her stared at her meaningfully.

"Boss wants you to carry it," he said, voice hushed.

Jess glanced back at the Joker who was with Tim at the door, picking the front lock, then again to the gun in Drew's hand.

"I…" she started to argue, but Drew shook his head and chuckled, motioning impatiently for her to take the weapon.

"It'll keep you safe," he muttered, and glanced behind him to where Schiff and White were just climbing from the back of the vehicle. " I don't trust those Arkham guys and I don't trust what the boss wants to do with them. So will you please just _take_ the gun?"

Jess smiled and stared at Drew shrewdly.

"Billy's gonna kill you for giving this to me," she said, gingerly putting her hand on the cold metal.

Drew laughed quietly and put his arm around her.

"I know," he said, "but he'd kill _everyone_ if you got hurt."

Together, they turned towards where the door to the apartment building was now opened and the Joker had disappeared inside. Drew and Jess made their way up to them.

"Where the hell am I supposed to put this?" Jess whispered, fingering the firearm.

Drew glanced over, looked pointedly at her chest and raised his eyebrows. Jess scoffed. No way would this rather large gun fit down her shirt. Instead, she kept it at her side, making sure not to even come near the trigger with her pointer finger.

She stepped in front of Drew into the darkness beyond the doorframe and followed the two or three people inside up the stairs to the third floor. No one spoke on their journey up the steps, no lights were turned on, people stepped lightly, and Jess realized for certain that they were not allowed to be in this building.

The Joker stepped up to a door a little ways down the hall and knocked confidently. Jess watched from a few feet away while, slowly, the door opened from the inside.

"_Hello_," the Joker said to whoever had answered--Jess couldn't see from where she stood--and made an almost miniscule movement with his hand.

The men hidden around the doorframe immediately cocked their guns and pushed their way inside, while the man who lived in the apartment exclaimed, "What the hell!?"

The members of the Twenty disappeared through the entrance, along with Schiff and White, and Jess stepped forward to follow them, coming up to the door and peeking into the small apartment. She glanced over at the grinning Joker beside her and he turned his eyes on her, raising his eyebrows, almost playfully.

Breathing deeply, Jess took a step into the room. The Joker followed her silently, closing the door behind him and sliding an arm around her waist to steer her the rest of the way inside. Rolling her eyes, not thinking about the way her heart had skipped a beat when he touched her, Jess paced with him past the entry way.

The apartment was small and dingy and the men had already started to go to work on it, knocking over bookshelves, smashing in the TV, pulling the phone from the wall. Bullet holes were peppering the plaster whenever the man who had answered the door or the roommate they had found in the apartment struggled and the Twenty members let off some silenced rounds to keep them quiet.

As of now, they were being held at gunpoint by Jonny and Tim. Both victims were yelling, attempting to act tough, and Jess felt a little sorry for them. If this was their only form of defense, it wasn't working.

The Joker sauntered in with her at his hip, chuckling a little at the two men who, as soon as they saw him, stopped speaking and stared in a sort of hypnotized horror at the face they had doubtlessly seen many times on television. Jess couldn't help but let out a little laugh at their expressions and the men turned their gaze on her, too, obviously wondering who the hell _she_ was. This made Jess laugh harder until the Joker's fingers dug into her hipbone in a sort of warning and she stopped.

"Hello, _gentlemen_," he said, reaching out and tilting a picture frame on the wall to his left so that it was crooked. "We're here for the, uh…" He tilted his head, staring at the picture frame as though trying to see if it was straight--which it obviously wasn't as he had just moved it. He tilted it to the other side.

"We're here for the poker game," he finished, turning to the petrified men and grinning.

Once more, he looked back to the picture, tilted it to the opposite side again, then made an irritated sound in the back of his throat and flicked it off the wall where it shattered on the floor. The two hostages flinched.

"Y'know," the Joker said, breaking away from Jess and making a slow inspection of the small room, picking up books or CD's between his gloved fingers and tossing them unceremoniously to the ground. "_This _is a nice place. Just… _classy._"

He was being ironic, of course. This place was a dump.

Every so often one of the hostages would struggle and another round of bullets would go into the walls. Jess leaned against the support beam beside her and watched the Joker with interest, a half-smile playing around her lips.

He was so… captivating. It was as though he'd been doing this all his life; playing with people, scaring them, wreaking destruction and havoc. It was such a part of him that he did it casually and that concept was so foreign to Jess that she almost admired it in him. Certainly she admired how easily all of this came to him when it was so hard for her to even begin thinking about how to spur on chaos.

Yes, admiration.

No hate, nor disgust. Not anymore.

Sure, she hated what he did, what he was sometimes. But, somehow, even though she hadn't been given any evidence to suggest otherwise, she knew that _what _he was was not _who _he was. There was someone beneath the criminal, like there was Billy beneath the thief and lock pick, like there was Blake beneath the gangster and Drew beneath the kidnapper.

There _had_ to be someone beneath the Joker. Or, if not _one_ person, many. And that concept absolutely fascinated Jess as she watched the Joker play with the hostages, finding a wad of bills in a drawer, raising his eyebrows at it and pocketing it, much to the chagrin of the two men.

"Hey, boss!"

Blake pulled something out of a drawer and turned to show it to the Joker, smiling widely.

"Aw, come on, man, no!" one of the hostages exclaimed, seeing what Blake had in his hands: a small Tupperware container out of which he pulled a few little white tablets and a plastic bag with about an inch of white powder laying along the bottom.

Jess would have loved to believe that the pills were medicine, but the powder she could not deny. She'd never seen cocaine before in real life, but she was pretty sure that was it.

The Joker had heard the hostage's outburst. It was sad to Jess that he would endanger his own life just to protect his drugs, and the Joker found some sort of horrible hilarity in it, too.

"What? S_orry_?" he said, leaning towards the man who had spoken. "No? _No_?" He chuckled hideously and motioned for Blake to pocket the drugs.

"Man, you don't _understand_," one of the junkies said.

The Joker raised his eyebrows and turned on him slowly.

"Yeah?" he asked. "What _don't _I understand?"

"Man, those are our lives," the other man explained. "We _need_ those."

The Joker chuckled and patted him roughly on the cheek.

"Not for long," he said, stepping away from them and motioning to White and Schiff, who cocked their guns and grinned evilly.

"What?" the hostages exclaimed. "No!"

"Kill 'em," the Joker ordered.

Jess gasped as White and Schiff moved into position in front of the pleading men and the Joker came to stand by her, draping an arm around her shoulders.

Before she could move to put her hands in front of her eyes, the guns went off and she watched in horrified silence as two bodies dropped to the ground, her mouth open in terror. Jess had never seen a real dead person before, much less anyone being killed.

She started to take deep, panicked breaths as the blood stained and saturated the carpet, her hands to her chest, the pistol dropping to the floor (and luckily not going off). She couldn't take her eyes off of the bodies and more than anything she wanted to be out of there, go, run back to the vans and wait out the job there but she was afraid of what the Joker would do. He hadn't left her side since the killing and his arm was still draped over her shoulder.

Jess wondered faintly if he was in some way trying to comfort her, though it didn't seem so. He was barking orders at the men to set the bodies up in chairs around the circular table.

Jess had to swallow bile as she watched the corpses being dragged into seated positions and draped across the table. With a little giggle the Joker glanced down at her to check on her status and when he was satisfied that she wouldn't faint, he left her to help set up the scene which, Jess was coming to realize, was a sort of macabre poker game, the two victims each holding a hand of cards.

Without the Joker's arm around her, Jess felt much less stable. She found herself missing him even though he was only a few feet away and she leaned heavily against a wall, trying to calm the dizziness in her head.

For some reason, she was feeling no sort of moral crisis. It was as though, because she had not been the one to fire the bullets that had killed the men, she felt less awful about their deaths. It was dreadful that they had died, of course. They were human beings, like her, and that was sad. But she didn't know them and she was fairly sure they were doing nothing with their lives anyway. So, somehow, the pain and horror was less. Was that horrible of her? Was she turning into some kind of monster?

Now that the shock was fading, she felt almost back to normal. She found she could distance herself from the fact that she was in a room in which two people had just been murdered. What kind of a person was she? Was it really just that easy for her?

She looked around at the members of the Twenty. Their noses were scrunched in disgust at the corpses but none of them seemed panicked either.

Jess hadn't killed anyone. Did that make it okay to be okay?

Every time she glanced at the poker scene, she felt her stomach turn. So she wasn't desensitized--definitely not--but their murders seemed so commonplace that she had to wonder if maybe she wasn't born to do this. Not to kill people, no--she promised herself at that moment that she'd never allow him to make her kill anybody--but perhaps to be a… what? An accomplice?

What was she, exactly?

A part of the whole, she supposed. An element of the group that acted as the villains, the better to contrast with the heroes.

A member of the Lucky Twenty.

Was that her calling? Was she born with such a twisted mindset that this all came easier to her than to others?

Then she remembered how difficult it was to wake up every day, how many obstacles she had to face on a regular basis. So maybe it didn't come easily.

Perhaps, instead of destined to be a villain, Jess was simply stronger than many. She'd kept her sanity _this_ long, right?

Right?

She checked herself. No. She wasn't insane. Not even close. Nothing like the Joker.

But if she wasn't, why did she find herself so compatible with him?

Nothing made any sense anymore. There was no use thinking about it. Nothing was going to change.

Heaving a sigh, Jess shakily bent down to pick up her fallen firearm.

* * *

They returned home in high spirits, their mission having been completed to the Joker's satisfaction. Jess rode in the back of the van on the way to the theater, still a little shaky after what had happened.

At one point in the ride, Blake had laughed about her looking tired. He had asked if she had a headache and offered her a pill from the Tupperware container.

Telling herself it was just aspirin, stupid Jessica popped it into her mouth and swallowed it. From that point on, the rest of the evening was sort of a blur.

* * *

Jess jumped out of the van unsteadily when they had reached their destination, already forgetting about the murders and the guns, sucked in by the incredible glow of lights along the stretch of road by the theater. She laughed and spun around slowly, making them dance and twinkle, all for her, and when the ground tipped and waved in front of her eyes, she fell laughing against Blake, who looked just as amazed by the lights as she was.

By now it seemed the Tupperware had gone around to everyone in the van and, as a slight drizzle of rain started from the sky, Jess threw her head back and caught the cold drops of water on her tongue. They felt beautiful, interesting… like magic.

She couldn't remember ever having felt so alive. All of her senses were going haywire, her ability to taste and touch and smell overwhelming her ability to think.

She hugged Blake, silently thanking him for this, suddenly so happy, so ecstatic, she felt she would scream.

The Joker was laughing, like always, and in her state the sound was comforting, far away and melodious. It was home. It was _him_, the one who had started all of this. And she loved him for it. She loved everything. She loved the vans, the old, dilapidated theater, the lights. She loved Drew and his steadying arm around her shoulder, leading her inside, and she loved Blake and the way he thought he could just grope her ass like he was doing now. She loved all of the Twenty. She loved crime and money and guns and she loved drugs suddenly. She loved everything she hated and everything she had loved before now filled her with so much emotion she thought she would cry.

And then she thought of Billy, and her eagerness to get into the theater increased tenfold. How much she wanted to hug him, to hold his hand and share her mood with him. She melted through the dark doorway into the blackness of the theater interior and vaguely heard herself ask where Billy was, sort of heard Blake answer that they were probably all in the rec room. She laughed and danced down the halls while the others sang crude songs to themselves and marveled at how dark it was.

It _was_ dark, Jess noticed. Like ink or a hole. But it wasn't scary. Not tonight.

Tonight, darkness was beautiful.

Abruptly, Jess turned around, thinking about the darkest thing in her life right now and wanting to experience it, see how it morphed into something incredible as everything else had.

The Joker stood there, laughing at something with Tim, his sweat streaked makeup glowing red and white in the dim light. Slowly, he noticed the focus of her intent look and turned his eyes to her.

She stopped in the middle of the corridor, staring at him in utter shock. She scrutinized his face, noticing the way the lines of it met and melded, creating a truly handsome person. She looked at the scars and saw only sadness, pain, and a sort of melancholy loveliness. The way his shoulders hunched when he turned on her gave him an interesting sort of character, more interesting than anything she'd ever come up against.

He was shaking slightly, she noticed. Maybe he always did that. And his eyes were deep and sometimes they looked as though they weren't seeing the outside world, but some vision his head created. Jess wanted to know what he was thinking. And she wondered if perhaps she wasn't just a figment of the Joker's imagination, if perhaps everything here wasn't just inside his head.

If she was just his imagination, could she fly?

She certainly felt like she could.

"Joker," Jess whispered.

The Joker licked his lower lip and glanced around at the men beside him, then back to her, a little curiously. Jess walked slowly towards him, concentrating as well as she could, a crease appearing between her eyebrows. The Joker looked a little surprised, but only mildly so, and he blinked at her, keeping his face expressionless as she approached him.

The other men moved away uncomfortably, melting like ghosts into shadows as the Joker shifted, folding his arms, trying to figure out what she wanted. Truly, Jess wasn't sure what she wanted, either.

But this man intrigued her, his darkness captured her, his power and chaotic energy made her want to share it.

She knew she was high on some drug she'd probably never heard of, perhaps one that only existed in the world of Gotham. But in this intoxicated euphoria was the courage to get the answers she craved.

As long as this drug pounded through her veins, she didn't fear the Joker. She didn't fear anything.

She only feared losing this feeling.

She reached him shortly and lifted a tingling hand, watching as it blurred slightly around the edges, mesmerized momentarily by the trails of color floating from it.

Her target was his mouth, full and imperfect and red. She remembered his mouth and now his lips seemed like they would feel like velvet. She moved closer to him, reaching up to feel him.

When she touched the side of his face, right over the scars, he jerked, stiffened as if waking from a dream, and grabbed her wrist roughly. Jess had been a little taken aback at how warm his skin was--somehow, even though she'd kissed him before and knew what he felt like, she expected him to be ice cold--and when his hand closed around her arm, she closed her eyes, enjoying the surprising sensation of heat.

The Joker noted her expression and sneered at her in disgust while she smiled back at him, blissfully forgetful of the danger of him. His danger simply added to his appeal.

He was like fire. All energy, all random movement and motion. He was an element unto himself, one unlike anything around him; wholly and perfectly unique. He was hot, bright and sharp. He killed and destroyed and engulfed, but he was beautiful to watch. You couldn't take your eyes off of his action, but if you got too close, he burned you.

That was what he was doing now: Getting ready to burn Jess, suddenly wanting it more than anything, consumed by anger or madness. She could see in his eyes that she had done wrong by touching his scars, that he could easily kill her right now. And still she was not afraid. She thought that probably irritated him, but she wanted to know more about him.

"Joker," she whispered again, realizing she'd never called him that to his face before.

It didn't feel right, like she wasn't calling him by his name, but by his title. She wished he had another name.

She'd gotten his attention now. He stared at her, his lip slightly curled, one hand clenching her wrist, the other wrapped around his knife.

"Joker," Jess whispered for the third time, "what are you thinking?"

The question surprised him. He immediately dropped her wrist and stared hard at her, lifting the hand in which he held his knife up to her face level, as though he just longed to carve her. But something was preventing him from doing so, though Jess wasn't sure what. His eyes were wide, a little insane, and he opened his mouth as though trying to think of something to say to her. She felt the room sway and tip, and swayed with it, knowing even then that the hallway was completely still and she was under the influence of something that could get her into a lot of trouble. She smiled through it, though.

That was how you got rid of the menace: smiling through it.

Maybe that's why he did it so much. Maybe smiling made _you_ the menace.

The Joker stared at her for a long moment, choosing his next action, and then suddenly made a discontented sound in the back of his throat and pushed past her, heading decisively towards the rec room. Jess slowly spun around and watched him leave, wondering why she hadn't gotten the answers she wanted.

A song had started playing loudly in her head and she followed him, humming the tune under her breath, melding with the darkness around her, finding warmth and comfort in it.

* * *

Jess woke up the next morning, sprawled on the couch in the rec room, her head in Billy's lap. She closed her eyes tightly against the sun streaming in through the windows and put a hand to her head as it immediately started to ache. Her stomach ached, too, as did her back, and when she became aware that she was still lightly gripping something in her hand, she looked down to find the floor littered with empty glass beer bottles.

Jess groaned. There'd been a party last night, probably to celebrate the successful job, and she'd been right there in the middle of it.

Now, if only she could remember.

Glimpses and flashes of glimpses raced through her aching skull. She'd lost sight of the Joker on the way to the rec room and she remembered Billy's concerned, yet highly amused, expression when he'd seen the state she was it. She remembered loud, pounding music that necessitated yelling to get any conversation across and Blake's flirtations whispered into her ear. She felt a rush of annoyance that he wasn't above taking advantage of her like that.

But Billy had been there the whole time, offering her water as well as alcohol, dragging her away from Blake with various excuses, telling her that if she needed to just sit down, he'd definitely walk her to her room.

She'd been demanding about the Joker's whereabouts the whole night, she realized, a blush heating her face. She hadn't been able to let where he'd gone off to go. She only hoped that everyone had been just as messed up as she had been and would forget any awkward questions.

The Joker hadn't even gone into the rec room. He'd taken a turn down some hallway between it and the front door and lost her. He'd gone off to revel in his own thoughts, probably talking to himself quietly.

Had she done something to him last night? She remembered wanting to touch him, wondering if he would feel as good as everything else… But had she?

For the life of her, Jess could not remember what she'd said or done. Oh lord… what if she'd done something truly embarrassing? What if she'd said something that would have repercussions later on?

She felt like shit.

She groaned and sat up, holding her head. Billy inhaled sharply behind her and she felt him shift, stretching and yawning.

"Morning, Jess," he said, his voice tired but pleasant.

Jess turned around to look at him sheepishly, hoping she hadn't done anything to embarrass herself with _him_, either.

"Hey, Billy," she replied, cuddling up next to him. He yawned and patted her head. "Crazy cool party you threw last night."

"Me?" Billy asked, smiling at her teasingly. "I wasn't the one dancing on tables."

Jess stiffened.

"_What_?!"

"I'm kidding, Jess," Billy laughed.

Jess hit him and relaxed, her racing heart slowing down. She wasn't that kind of girl, but she _had_ been out of her head last night.

"Was I awful though?" she asked, an extension of her previous thoughts.

Billy shrugged.

"Not half bad," he said. "Actually, I was impressed. Blake told me you popped a pill and then with all you drank… I was surprised you could form cohesive sentences by three a.m. Tim got to the point where he was just laying on the ground, touching his face."

Billy pointed to a body sprawled halfway across the room. Tim lay sleeping, a very content look on his face, and Jess had to keep herself from bursting into giggles.

"It was fun," she said. "You all know how to have a good time."

"Well, we heard the job was a success," Billy said, "and so we figured the least we could do was reward you for all your hard work." He paused, frowning a little. "The Joker wasn't around much. Made it even better."

Jess didn't respond to that. She couldn't trust herself to.

Conflicting emotions made it difficult to form opinions.

"Thanks for looking out for me," she said, getting up to get a drink of water. Her lips were seriously chapped and her head hurt like a bitch. Hydration was the number one concern now.

"No problem," Billy said from behind her.

She looked back to watch him close his eyes and lay back on the couch, ready to drift off to unconsciousness again. Jess drained a glass of tap water, refilled it, and took it to her room.

If no one was doing much today, she could use some more sleep, too.


	17. Chapter 17

**Hey guys! Once again, I apologize for taking so long. I had a very busy month. But I got into my first choice college! (A really good school ;).) And I directed an awesome play. SO. It was successful. **

**This next chappy is one I really hope you like. It's sort of a "downtime" chapter, as the next few will be, because I need to develop Jess and the Joker's relationship. Anyway... **

**Listen to:**

**The Leaving Song Pt. 2- AFI**

**Kiss and Control- AFI**

**Paper Airplanes (Makeshift Wings)- AFI**

**They're very good. Two of them are on Sing the Sorrow and Kiss and Control is on Decemberunderground. AFI makes me smile... :)**

**I can't remember if I said this in another chapter… But I want to let everyone know that the Joker is twenty-seven here. Magical number twenty-seven, the age that all rock stars hope to live past.**

**That's the age at which Heath did the movie. He died at twenty-eight.**

**And I know it's a bit late, but can we all just give him a hand for winning the Golden Globe award? He totally deserved it.**

**I'm gonna miss him… and I never even knew him…**

**Ah. Now that my depressing speech is at an end…**

**Review, as per usual! Your reviews got me moving, I swear! So please please PLEASE say things to me! I love you all! Enjoy!**

* * *

When Jess woke up, evening had fallen over Gotham. She left her room and wandered down the hallways, not at all perturbed that she had slept the day through. The theater was quiet, so probably most of the men were sleeping their hangovers off, too, and she knew if she hadn't been called or woken, she wasn't needed.

Things were getting easier, she reflected. In eleven days, this place seemed like home. She had bonded instantly with most of the people here and their occupations hardly worried her anymore. It was so strange how quickly humans could adapt. Strong humans, at least.

The Darwinian theory still held here. Survival of the fittest.

Was Jess fit enough?

She'd gotten by so far. She'd seen a murder, gone along on a group crime, and kissed a killer. As far as she was concerned, the worst was over.

And she would put those kisses out of her head.

The Joker had been in a weird mood that day, so the kisses were probably just a product of his personality at the moment. Doubtless he had redefined himself by now, so Jess told herself that there was no use in expecting him to kiss her every time she saw him.

And she was _perfectly_ fine with that.

Yes sir.

No problems there.

She'd have nothing to do with his flawlessly flawed mouth, warm and wanting.

…

Jess bit her lip and tried to think of other things.

Did she regret taking that drug last night?

Not particularly, she realized. It wasn't as if she had to worry about her parents finding out and getting expelled from school seemed laughable. And her body? Well, it was probably going to get more physically damaged by the Joker than by anything she could do to it with drugs.

The body is a temple, her mother had always said.

Yeah, well. Why can't temples fly? Because they're bolted to the ground.

Jess didn't particularly feel like being bolted to the ground anymore.

She leaned against a wall and laughed to herself, thinking her thoughts a little absurd. Had she experienced an epiphany while she was sky high last night?

"Probably," she said to herself, grinning. "Everything was an epiphany last night."

"Y'know, when you start talking to yourself it means you're _crazy_."

Jess jumped and turned around, peering into the shadows near a doorway and finding the Joker leaning there, a very significant look on his face as he stared at her.

"Sorry," Jess said, shrinking away from him a little. "I was just thinking."

The Joker closed his eyes and let his mouth curve up into a very slight smile.

"I _really_ hate it when people tell me they're _sorry_," he said. "As if that oughta fix everything. Seems _lazy_ to me, y'know?"

"Sor--"

"Ah ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta!" the Joker said, meaning for her to stop. She went silent and put her fingers over her mouth meekly. "Yeah. Y'know, you learn quick for a _regular_ _person_."

Jess didn't like the way he had said that. Like she wasn't regular and he was making fun of her. She scowled at him. He laughed quietly and stepped forward, a little closer, hands out in front of him, his long, spidery fingers waving slowly.

"_Don't _like how rarely I see you smile, though. You oughta show the world that pretty _grin_."

His fingers jumped through the air at "grin," emphasizing his words as he approached her further and she shrank back as though she could disappear into the wall.

"You were _all _smiles last night," he said, a touch of bitterness tinting his words.

She studied his face, seeing no flicker of danger there, only the grin, and it terrified her. When he was blank or his face was contorted with anger, at least she could _guess_ what he was thinking.

But when he was smiling…

It was like his mask. He was liable to do anything.

"Wonder what changed…" the Joker said, finishing his thought from before.

Of course he knew what had changed… He was just messing with her.

Jess was getting tired of his games.

"Well, I'm not high right now," she said. "And I don't really feel like smiling."

"Ah…" the Joker breathed, stopping a foot away from her and hunching his neck forward as though to get a better view of her face. "Is that the _only_ way you can have fun, Jesster? Tsk."

The clicking noise he made at the side of his mouth irritated Jess, as did his jab at her.

"Not the only way," she said. "But around here, I'm not finding many things to be very _happy_ about." The Joker lifted an eyebrow. "By the way, I apologize for approaching you last night. I wouldn't have touched you if I had been thinking straight."

There. That wiped that stupid little smirk off his face. Jess saw danger growing in his eyes and she was almost relieved by its presence. She could predict him now.

"Not the way you told it before…" he muttered, glancing behind him as though he expected someone to be coming down the hallway.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Jess asked, trying really hard to keep the biting edge out of her tone.

The Joker shrugged.

"If, uh… If I remember _correctly_, you were only too _happy_ to touch me," he said, both eyebrows raised, his eyes lidded slightly as he looked at her. He licked his lips as though trying to get rid of the ache of their chap. "_Completely_ sober, too. Funny how your story doesn't add up."

Jess pursed her lips, almost raising her hand to stomp forward and hit him, but restraining herself. He probably had a knife on him and any physical fight would not end in her favor.

God, she _hated_ him.

Or… she hated when he was like this.

Sometimes she could stand him, could even admire him.

But right now admiration seemed far away and rather impossible.

The Joker saw this inner struggle--saw right through the tight mouth and clenched fists--and smiled at it as though it were amusing. Jess wished she could scream at him but that, too, would surely end in a dead or injured state.

"You _know_ that was just a fluke," she told him, her voice low and serious. "I wasn't in a good state of mind _any_ of the times. Why don't you just leave me alone, huh?"

The Joker's laugh ripped out of his throat at that, high pitched and loud, echoing back down the hall.

"Oh sure!" he said sarcastically as he laughed, trying to get a hold of himself. "You just _walk away_ and leave this _all _behind! Then I'll leave you _alone_." He let out another wheezy giggle and looked away as though she was just too much. "Y'know, Jess, I _knew_ this whole thing would be good for a laugh. But _you_!" He pointed at her, the smile slipping slightly. "_You!_ You never fail to demonstrate to me just how right _I_ really was!"

He was coming closer to her again, pointing all the time, his fingers flying to emphasize his points.

"You want _freedom_ from me? Hmm?"

He started to circle her, as though to add another facet to his taunt. His circle was slow, leisurely, and he would bend down every so often to get his point closer to her ear.

"I don't think you do. No, what _you_ need… what they _all _need… is freedom from _self_. See, that's what I have, Jesster. I'm not all…" his hands toyed with an invisible object in the air, turning it over and around to try to find his words "_preoccupied_ with self preservation." He laughed. "And you know what? It feels _glorious_. _That's_ the kind of freedom you can't live--I mean _really_ _live_--unless you have. You gotta earn it, though. But once you do…" He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as though smelling the sweetest air imaginable. "You don't live _without_ it."

Jess shook her head, trying to figure out where he was going with this, and he immediately read and analyzed her expression.

"See, I'm not a _captor_," he said. "I'm a _liberator_. Maybe I'm _your_ liberator. Maybe I'm this city's. The only problem is the _pathetic_…" Once again, he searched his hands for the words… "_resistance _people like you put up when they oughta just… enjoy the _ride_."

"People like me?" Jess asked. "And people like the Batman."

But the Joker was shaking his head before she'd even finished.

"No," he said. "No, no, no, no, no. Don't pretend you're like him. You're not. See, the _Batman… _he's on a whole other level. You are a _resistor_. The Batman is a _fighter_. The perfect fighter, trained and determined and passionate. _You_ are none of those things. You don't really _believe_ in your cause. You don't really want to resist."

"Yes, I do!" Jess insisted, staring him straight in the eyes but believing his words at the same time. "I _do_ want to fight."

"No," the Joker said, a smile still stretching his lips. He knew he was winning, breaking down her defenses block by block.

And Jess knew he was winning, too.

"What _you_ want to do is give up. And I invite you to, Jesster. I _expect_ you to. Never betray what you _are _by trying to be what you _should_. You'll fail. You _have_."

Jess was shaking, but out of anger, fear or exhilaration she wasn't sure. His words were striking chord after chord of truth in her and it was jarring and terrifying but oddly invigorating. _Liberating_. He'd given her permission to give up the fight and live for the experience. Was that what she'd been waiting for?

"I hate you," she hissed, finding she didn't care whether or not his knife would flash.

He wouldn't kill her. Not now. Now, she knew somehow, wasn't the time for her to die. And he would respect that.

The Joker smiled widely at her statement.

"_There's_ my girl," he said.

* * *

_I'm NOT his girl,_ Jess thought, stomping down the hallway, hands balled into fists as she went. The Joker had turned and walked off after making his last statement, and Jess had been left there, disturbed by what he'd said.

_His_ girl.

Ha!

As if.

He was just toying with her. She knew that. It was an expression, a common phrase. People said it all the time. "There's my boy" or "there's my girl." It meant what ever had been done was pleasing. Everyone knew it. It was just a phrase. He'd liked that she'd been brave enough to tell him she hated him. It was some sort of sick masochism.

If the Joker was anything, he was certainly masochistic. He loved it.

Why, then, had she been so disturbed by it?!

He'd only said it because she'd played directly into his game and it pleased him. He hadn't been insinuating anything by calling her _his_ girl.

She knew that.

And, even if he had, it was ridiculous.

She _wasn't _his girl. Not in the slightest.

Not to the extent that she was like him, nor to the extent that she somehow belonged to him. In no way was she _his_ girl.

…

So why was she so bothered?!

She decided not to think about it. Thinking about it would just stress her out and she'd find no sort of conclusion in pondering anything he said.

There was nothing concrete about the Joker and there was nothing final. So his words couldn't be taken too seriously.

Having said that, his speech had bothered her.

Things had changed for her, of course that was true, and she had changed. But how much of what the Joker had said was accurate? How much of her wanted to fight? How much of her wanted to give up?

And this phrase, this awful phrase, kept echoing in her head:

_If you can't beat 'em…_

Jess certainly couldn't beat them.

So what now? Would she join them?

Was she ready for that?

It was so scary, but she didn't know. She couldn't examine herself too closely without coming up with a lot of monsters she wanted to keep hidden away from her conscious mind. So she stopped examining and decided to look for something to keep her occupied for a while.

* * *

There was music coming from the rec room and Jess opened the door to find quite a few of the men lounging in there, an old song coming out of the CD player in the corner. Jess immediately recognized the tune.

"_Some people call me the space cowboy.  
__Some call me the gangster of love…_"

She turned to Billy, sitting on the couch not far from where she'd left him this morning, and raised her eyebrows at the song. He laughed and shrugged, inviting her to sit beside him. The rest of the men around the room found the song amusing, too, and when the chorus came on they broke into song along with it.

"_I'm a picker  
__I'm a grinner  
__I'm a lover  
__And I'm a sinner…_"

Jess shook her head. Apart from "sinner" the lyrics were in no way true to the real Joker. But it was all a little funny and she laughed and sang along, happy in this moment of simplicity as the Steve Miller Band played loud and their situation could be forgotten, drowned in an appropriate song.

"See, this is why I love the seventies," she said to no one in particular. "The songs didn't have to be complex to be good."

Billy laughed and nodded.

"You two weren't even alive when this song was on the radio," Keith said from beside the couch.

Jess stared at him.

"And you were?"

"Oh sure," he said, tilting his beer at her in a kind of toast. "Came out the year I was born."

"Oldie," Jess muttered, and he threw a pillow at her.

The next verse came on with the twang of guitars and Jess settled back into the couch, singing with the men around her.

"_People talk about me, baby  
__Say I'm doin' you wrong, doin' you wrong  
__But don't you worry, baby, don't worry  
__Cuz I'm right here, right here, right here, right here at home…_"

Billy slung his arm over her shoulder and a guy named Josh threw her a beer. She popped the tab, thought fleetingly about the dangers of underaged drinking, and took a swig.

"_I'm a picker  
__I'm a grinner  
__I'm a lover  
__And I'm a sinner  
__I play my music in the sun…  
__I'm a joker  
__I'm a smoker_…"

At that moment, Jess looked up from the distracted, cheerful singing men around her to the door of the room. It was like she had sensed a change in the atmosphere, like his presence had signified a sudden shift to her.

As though he'd been summoned by his name in the song, there stood the Joker, arms folded, leaning against the door to the rec room, an eyebrow cocked in amusement at the antics in the room.

Jess almost had to laugh. Here they were, belting out a song named for him, having a good time with it.

Sometimes the only way for humans to justify things was to laugh about them.

And so they were doing for the Ace of Knaves; laughing about him, _with_ him, to justify him.

Jess had almost forgotten during the song how he was, and had for a moment almost felt a sort of affection for him, for his name and the joy a song named the same thing could cause.

Then she saw him.

He didn't look irritated, only highly amused, regarding the men as though they were a bit crazy.

That thought _did_ make Jess giggle. If they were crazy, where was the Joker on the sanity spectrum?

Shit, what if he was the only one who wasn't insane?

Jess doubled over, her giggles intensifying.

Billy glanced up to follow her gaze and his face went dark. He, obviously, had not been so quick to forget what had happened yesterday. To Jess, it all seemed like the distant past. After all, she'd survived a whole conversation with the Joker today without receiving a single blow or a single kiss.

It was an improvement, certainly.

But Billy was not so hasty to forgive the Joker for touching her. She looked at him, her laughs dying, and thought for a moment that she should tell him about the boss's redefinition of self and how romance was now not on his list of things to do. But she didn't, because he'd want to know how she knew. And she didn't know how to tell him that she sort of understood the Joker now.

Well…

_Understood_ was a bad word.

"Hey boss!" a few men hailed, once they had noticed his presence.

He nodded to them, but for the first time Jess noticed his eyes were trained mostly on her. Even when he was handed a drink by Logan and he used the bottle opener to pop the cap off, his eyes hardly flickered from hers.

His makeup was smearing and she could see the dark circles under his lower lids. The deep brown of his irises looked slightly dull in this light, and the whites were reddened at the corners. He didn't look well. She wondered if he ever slept.

Not knowing what to do, she nodded at him and raised her beer in a greeting. His mouth tightened a little and he kept staring.

Two men, by the names of Derek and William, were over there talking to him, and he'd nod and glance at them every so often but otherwise, really, he was focused on Jess.

She looked back to the TV uncomfortably, wishing he would just stop staring. What was he thinking? What was going on behind those eyes?

"Looks like the boss wants something," Billy muttered from beside her, obviously having noted the direction of the Joker's gaze.

"If he wants something, he can ask like a normal human instead of just staring until I talk to him," Jess replied, a little too loudly.

Keith choked on his beer.

"You have got balls, kid," Laurence chuckled, whistling under his breath.

Jess shrugged. She doubted he could hear them, across the room as he was, and with the music turned up the chance was very slight. So she wasn't _really _being brave. Or stupid.

But as if he had heard her statement, the Joker smiled slightly, pushed himself from the wall and, ignoring William and Derek, moved across the room towards her. Jess tried not to notice, tried to keep the pounding of her heart down in case he could hear that, too.

The Joker paused at the arm of the couch, a hand resting along the back of it, fingers drumming a rapid tattoo. He looked down at Jess, smiling, his eyebrows raised, and she caught his eye. Sighing, she decided she should probably say something.

"Is there something you wanted, Mr. J?" she asked too-sweetly, and before she had realized the words were out of her mouth.

Now it was Billy's turn to choke on his drink and turn away in laughter. Jess's face went bright red. _Mr. J?!_

She'd heard him called that by Harley Quinn in the comics since she was a child, so the name had been engraved in her mind. She just couldn't believe she'd actually used it!

But now that she had…

She kind of liked the sound of it. It seemed more natural than calling him Joker. That just didn't seem right at all…

Maybe if she took off the mister part? Just J?

Her thoughts were interrupted when she looked up at the Joker, who had tilted his head to one side as though mildly bemused by her name for him.

"Something I wanted…" he repeated. "Yeah. Come with me, Jesster."

* * *

The walk to the greenroom was made in silence. The Joker looked preoccupied and Jess didn't care to interrupt his thoughts by speaking, ever wary of him as she was. He didn't even seem to remember that she was near him and if he hadn't held the door open to usher her into his "office," she would have thought he'd forgotten her.

Once inside, the dim light of the room made Jess feel very uneasy. She glanced around nervously and watched the Joker take a seat on the couch, mindful of his every gesture, waiting for him to speak. But he wasn't even looking at her.

He rested a hand on the armrest of the couch and turned his head to look out the open window, to the darkened city with its many lights, the sounds of cars honking, people yelling and sometimes distant gunfire. Although Jess usually hung around in the theater, she'd listened to these sounds at night, and realized she'd come to love them. That she'd come to love this city.

She wondered fleetingly if the Joker did.

But her question was answered when she looked at his face, at the sneer painting his features; a sneer of deep disgust, loathing almost, but somehow…

A look of desire, deep, deep desire. A look of possessiveness. A look of _longing_.

He _wanted_ Gotham, Jess realized. He wanted it more than anything. He considered it _his_ city and he wanted to assert his claim.

For some reason, the thought softened her. She tilted her head and looked at him, kind of… _touched_ by what she read in his expression. She'd never seen such yearning in anyone's eyes before and the thought that he was capable of such feeling took her by surprise.

The Joker turned and caught her staring, immediately analyzing her expression and, in turn, changing his. Once more, his eyes were probing but guarded and a smile curved his lips. However, he said nothing. A crease appeared between Jess's eyebrows as they stared at each other.

"Where were you just now?" she asked softly, referencing his far away look.

A flash of confusion or surprise echoed behind the Joker's eyes, but he recovered and looked away, back towards the window as though she were completely uninteresting to him.

"Don't ask me questions, Jesster," he said, almost in a sigh.

"Why?"

The Joker turned to look at her, amused, and she grinned slightly, still on guard. She didn't _think_ he'd snap and get angry, but you never knew. She kept looking at him, not blinking, determined to force him to respond. He shook his head.

"Y'know, you won't get an _answer_," he said softly, his voice breaking.

"I know," Jess said. "Not from you, at least. But it never hurts to try, right?"

The Joker just looked at her.

"Oh, now that's not true," he whispered.

Subconsciously, Jess reached up to her collar bone, where the gash from the Joker's knife was scabbing; a souvenir from one of her last attempts to get answers.

"I just want to try to figure you out," she told him, keeping her voice level and soft.

They were both trying to play the game right now, and if she got angry or irritated or scared, he'd just kick her out. And then _none_ of her questions would be answered… Questions that she felt he was the key to.

The Joker giggled slightly, but it wasn't too disruptive.

"Of course you do, Jesster," he said. "But how can you figure someone who doesn't figure himself?"

Jess frowned and shrugged, sighing slightly and going to stand by the window, deliberately placing herself between the Joker and what he wanted, forcing his attention to her.

"I don't know," she said. "I don't know much anymore."

The Joker grinned as he looked at her, silhouetted against the night sky.

"Things have changed so much," Jess went on, placing her hands on the windowsill, taking and chance and actually turning her back on him.

She didn't know why she was compelled to do so. Maybe she was trying to show herself that she trusted him right now, even though that was a stupid thing to do. Maybe she was trying to show _him_ she trusted him. Or maybe the view of Gotham from here was just too pretty.

"Like I said," came the Joker's voice, not having moved in position, "we all _need_ change."

Jess turned to look back at him, grinning freely now. He wasn't approaching her! He was content to just… talk.

It almost made her want to cry, it was such a change. The fear was still there, but the whole atmosphere was different. He wasn't blatantly trying to intimidate her and he was listening to what she had to say. It was so weird.

"You remember everything you say?" she asked. Not teasing, not quite. Anyone who teased the Joker would probably wind up pretty dead.

The Joker looked down pensively at his hands.

"If I don't…" he said softly, then shook his head and looked back up at her. "You oughta go. Your friends are probably listening outside the door," he giggled, "waiting to _spring_ in and save you if I say something that makes you… _uncomfortable_."

Jess frowned and turned around, resting against the windowsill.

"I thought you said you wanted something?" she asked gently, not sure why she wasn't running for the door given his permission to do so. Did she _want_ to stay?

The Joker grinned at her, obviously wondering the same thing.

"What I want…" he said, then shook his head. "No. I've decided it can _wait_."

"Oh," Jess said. "Oh, okay."

She started moving to the door, watching the Joker for any change in dynamic. None came. He seemed to be wrapped up in some strange mood tonight, melancholy and pensive. So _unlike_ him. Jess wanted to share in it more, but she didn't want to annoy him be trying to stay.

"It can wait," he repeated. "Can _you_ wait, Jesster?"

He was looking up at her with lidded eyes. His greenish blond hair curled down gently over his face until he pushed it back with an impatient, fluttering hand. Jess looked at him, a little sadly. He was beautiful in appearance. Why did he insist on destroying himself?

"I can wait," Jess said, "especially if I don't know what I'm waiting for."

The Joker smiled.

"Good," he said.

"You sure you don't need anything else?" Jess asked.

What was she going for here? What was she hinting at him wanting? She didn't know. She just knew that the idea of leaving him right now didn't really appeal to her.

The Joker had started to chuckle lowly, she realized. His shoulders shook as he stared down at the floor, suddenly extremely amused. Slowly, his gaze lifted upwards, to her, and his laugh grew louder. Jess had no idea what had set him off. Something she'd said? Could he read her confusion concerning him that easily?

"Whatever," she muttered, anger growing inside of her as he kept laughing quietly.

He wasn't being loud but she felt he was mocking her. Muttering about what a confusing asshole he was, Jess made a beeline for the door.

"Tell me, _Jesster,_" the Joker said between giggles. She paused with her hand on the knob and looked back at him blankly, not allowing the annoyance or hurt she felt register on her face. "Are you _comfortable _here?"

Jess only had to think this over for a moment.

"For the most part," she answered honestly. "Yeah. I am."

The Joker chuckled again.

"How _unfortunate_," he said.

Jess sighed, opened the door, and left.


	18. Chapter 18

It was another party night. Apparently every night without a job was a party night.

Jess plopped down on the couch next to Blake and Logan and sipped a Vodka handed to her blindly by one of the men, looking around despite herself to see if maybe the Joker would stop by. But he didn't. He never did.

He'd given her a lot to think about today, and after their latest meeting Jess wasn't really in the mood to do anything besides sit alone and think or sleep. So, after finishing her drink, she stood up, bidding the men good night.

"Aw!" Blake exclaimed, already wasted. "We wanted you to dance on the tables!"

Jess frowned at him and Billy tackled him to the floor, laughing uproariously as they wrestled, both having a great time. Jess rolled her eyes but laughed despite herself, loving her men regardless of their quirks or weaknesses. She went, leaving them to their laughter and drinks, wondering even as she left why she wasn't using this excuse to get her mind off of him.

Because now all she'd be able to do was think.

* * *

When she arrived at her room, Jess plopped onto the cot, sighed and undressed for bed. She had been thinking about him a lot, she reflected. He was on her mind almost every time she had a quiet moment.

Now, this raised a lot of questions in itself.

Why wasn't she thinking more about her family and friends back home?

Why was she happier here at times than she'd ever been at home?

Why did she love the Lucky Twenty like she did?

And why--please God, why!?--was the Joker on her mind, day and night? Why couldn't he leave her alone?!

Everything she did, everything that happened, reminded her of him. Jesus, even peanut butter reminded her of him now, because since meeting him, Jess and peanut butter sandwiches had become best friends.

What did she want with him?

What did he want with her?

No.

No, what he wanted wasn't a mystery. He'd told her. She was here because she was the curve ball. So that was his twisted reasoning.

But why wasn't she trying harder to escape?

Jess had started crying without noticing it. Why wasn't she trying to escape? Why did she seem to actively seek him out? It was so weird! She'd always been outgoing--too forward and ready for conflict for her own good, really--but only a little while ago the prospect of becoming inescapably fixated on a criminal mastermind would have been laughable!

So what if he looked like Heath Ledger? There was no excuse.

Maybe if he hadn't been the Joker it would be different. He was her vice, her nightmare, her childhood monster who had haunted her dreams since she'd been old enough to understand the words in the comic books.

Perhaps if she hadn't already mentally elevated him to a status of near-god--or, near-devil as it were--she'd be less affected by him. If he'd been a nobody would she react like this?

Was she attracted to fame like that?

So much about herself, Jess didn't know. It was terrifying. She settled back into the cot, letting the tears drip down her face, sighed and fell asleep trying to wade through the mess that was her psyche.

* * *

The lights wouldn't turn on in the rec room.

Jess stood by the door to the dimly lit area, flicking the switch up and down and wondering if the bulb was out. She called for someone but her voice drifted lazily away and faded into silence. No one answered.

She really needed to watch TV, to find out if anything had happened with the Lucky Twenty since yesterday. No one was in the theater and no one had told her where they were going. They hadn't even bothered to wake her up. Jess grumbled angrily about how rude they were and flicked the switch again to no avail.

She stepped inside the room despite the darkness, wandering sightlessly towards where the TV had been carelessly left on the table, buzzing faintly on a grey channel. She found the remote and blindly clicked, landing on a news station almost immediately, watching the screen for a moment before she realized what she was seeing and her eyes grew wide in horror.

There, on the screen, tears running down their faces, were her mother, her father, her best friend Vanessa and… Billy.

"Jessica," her mother cried, pleading so hard she was shaking. "Please, please don't die. Please don't be dead."

"We know what you're doing," her father said, his voice cracking. "You're not supposed to be there!"

"Where are you?" Vanessa asked hysterically. "Is it home now?"

"Jess," Billy sighed. "Jess, come back from wherever you are. Come back to us. Don't let me lose you."

Jess blinked in confusion, backing hesitantly away from the flickering screen, not wanting to be near these people and their accusations but at the same time not wanting to be alone in the dark. As she moved further from them, their cries became louder, more desperate, but she could no longer hear the words. It was so dark. So cold.

She started to hyperventilate, unable to breathe, feeling no comfort in her body.

Nothing but darkness and dread.

And then, as it had come before, as though she'd heard it all her life, there was a quiet chuckle from behind her. She turned around sharply, the voices of the people on the screen fading away, those she loved leaving her…

Or maybe she was leaving them as she turned to face the dark form behind her.

He was laughing softly. The sound blended with the darkness, wrapping her up in it. She'd heard it before and it had always scared her, but this time…

This time it was sort of comforting.

It lifted her away from the vices and guilt that her loved ones offered her with their worries and pushed her somewhere deeper, somewhere remote from petty concerns.

She walked towards it, into his arms, feeling the soft cloth of his shirt covering his warm skin as though he was the only thing real here.

She rested her head against his chest and let him take her away in a rush of wind and stars and blood and laughter, not knowing, not caring where she was going.

They were flying over Gotham, the city a blur of lights beneath them and he leaned down to whisper into her ear:

"This is what I see. Will you see it, too?"

She would. She would always see it.

They stood on the top of a high building, the breeze whipping his curly hair in wild tangles from his head as he danced and laughed and ran along the edge of the building, careless of the long fall. Jess smiled, dazed, wrapping herself in his mood, hoping he'd never go away.

But as soon as she'd had that thought a dark shape barreled over her, knocking away her breath. She watched in horror and shock as the black mass leaped into the Joker, perched on the edge of the roof, and carried them both off the ledge.

Jess heard his laugh as he fell, excited even in death for the new experience. It rang in her ears, staying with her even when he was gone.

Her last part of him.

* * *

Jess woke up suddenly, tears flowing down her cheeks, her breath coming hard and ragged.

How awful!

Even now, the dream was fading. She couldn't remember why she was crying so hard.

Something terrible had happened. She'd lost someone she couldn't live without.

Billy?

Her mom?

Ah, but it was only a dream. Everything was okay. No one was lost.

Jess sniffed and rolled over, trying to gather herself and wiping the tears from her cheeks. The room was mostly dark, but a dim light spilled in through the hallway. Jess turned away from the wall, wondering why the door was open…

"Nightmare, Jesster?"

The Joker was leaning against the doorframe nonchalantly, as though watching someone sleep in the middle of the night was completely normal. Jess sat up abruptly, angry that he was here.

"Don't you ever sleep?" she asked, running a hand through her tangled hair.

The Joker only looked at her. She couldn't see him very well in this light, but it appeared as though most of his makeup was gone.

"What do you want, then?" she asked, wiping away the last of her tears.

The Joker pushed himself away from the wall and stepped casually towards her.

"Tell me about your dream, Jesster," he ordered softly, coming to stand right at the side of her cot, looking down at her. He wore only his long sleeved shirt with that strange hexagon pattern and his purple slacks. No tie. No vest. No jacket. His hair was not slicked back with grease but fell carelessly over his face. And she could see now that he was closer that his face had not a trace of makeup on it.

Christ.

His eyes, his nose, his mouth…

It was hard not to see that the man was beautiful, even with his scars. Sans makeup, one could actually see his features. Movie star worthy, really.

Not that that was surprising, given who played him in the movie.

And in this light, his hair looked almost like it was just dark blond. And…

And…

He was so young! How could someone who did what he did be so young?!

Jess looked away, frightened by the look of normality about him. She'd gotten rather used to him, she realized. The way he looked hadn't bothered her for a long time. Without the paint, it was different. It was not at all what she was used to.

She understood why he wore the makeup, why he played up his scars. If he didn't, no one would take him seriously. They'd pass him off as a kid.

Angel faces rarely inspired fear.

At least until he showed them what he could do.

Now, however, with the little gimmick his makeup presented, he made quite an impression right away.

"My dream…" Jess said, sighing. He wasn't going to leave, she knew, unless she gave him something. "Um… I dreamed about my mom and dad."

"Ah," the Joker said, looking at his nails. "That is cause for tears."

"They were on the news or…" she furrowed her eyebrows, concentrating on the fading dream. "Or… or something. And they were asking if I was dead. And then…" Jess shook her head. "There were stars. And a building and… and someone… someone died."

"Ah," the Joker whispered. "Anyone I know?"

Jess shrugged.

"I can't remember," she admitted, pulling her knees up to her chest and watching him closely for any signs of movement. She hadn't gotten to the bottom of why he was here, after all.

"Too bad," he muttered, looking away from her. He took a deep breath and pushed a lock of hair out of his eyes.

This time, Jess saw the change. It was as though a shudder passed through his body and in a single second he went from passive and pensive to absolutely amused at something. A smile stretched his lips and when he looked back down at her, his eyes were shining with exhilaration.

"Jesster," he said, his voice on the edge of a giggle. "Jesster, Jesster, Jesster!"

He sat down on the cot at her feet and hit her legs a few times with his hands, drumming them in excitement. Then, he leaned forward and grasped both her knees, intent on telling her something that just made him giddy.

"So, I've been thinking…" he said, pausing to raise his eyebrows and look up, choosing his words. "About you. And about myself. About we."

He giggled. Jess raised her eyebrows.

"We?" she asked. "Can I remind you…"

The Joker cut her off, waving his hands in front of her face as though to banish her retort.

"I know what you're gonna say," he said, shaking his head. "There is no we. Hmm?" Jess nodded. "Tsk. Too predictable, Jess. You oughta work on that. No, what I mean is, I've been thinking about my affect on you. And, uh… vice versa. How we've changed each other. You did mention change, right?"

Not sure where he was going with this, Jess nodded, deciding to listen.

"And I've come to realize," the Joker said, shifting to make himself more comfortable, "that you and I… We…"

He reached out and grabbed her fists in his. Jess tried to pull away, startled by the contact, but he wouldn't have it.

"Hey," he said, gripping her hands tighter. "See, I'm your liberator. We've already established that. And it's not in the same way that I've liberated the rest of the Lucky Twenty. No. Not at all, Jess. Are you understanding me?"

Jess frowned and shook her head. He was jumping back and forth here and she couldn't really tell what he was trying to say. Also, she couldn't stop thinking about his hands around hers. She kept looking down at the paint and oil stained fingers, not sure whether she was attracted by them or repulsed. His sleeves were rolled up and she could see that his forearms--fantastic forearms, but she wouldn't think about that--were nicked and cut and burned.

"Y'know, you are the most difficult person in this theater," the Joker went on, catching her eyes and holding her gaze significantly. "If the, uh… If the rest of these little… criminals were as hard to control as you were, I'd be out of a job." He grinned. "Luckily, they're not. But you know something about you, Jess?"

"No," Jess said dryly. "Please, tell me all about myself, won't you, boss?"

The Joker burst into giggles.

"See?" he said, delighted. "See, that's… that's exactly what I'm talking about, here. You've got this kind of… thing. And, well, I can't tell if it's just stupidity or if you're a very courageous little girl."

"Would you rather I was boring?" Jess asked, a little bite in her tone. His hands were on hers. If he went for his knife, she'd have time to move. She hoped. "Would you prefer I was like all your other victims?"

"No, no, no, no," he said. "I don't want that at all, Jesster. You're so much more fun this way!"

Jess leaned forward, staring him dead in the eye.

"You like messing with me, don't you?"

The Joker leaned back, smiling casually.

"Oh, it's not just you, Jesster," he said.

Jess made a noise of disgust and ripped her hands away from him, sliding out of the cot. She felt vulnerable sitting down like that, and felt that standing at least she'd have the added advantage of running if he decided to go ape shit on her.

She was about to take a step nearer the door, fully intending on turning back to face him and continuing whatever conversation he wanted to have, when she felt his hands on her hips. Before she could react, he had pulled her backwards, down and almost onto him. Jess tipped clumsily and fell into his lap, scrambling over to the side as soon as she landed, not feeling good about this at all.

The Joker was giggling at her, obviously finding this very funny. Jess's legs were bare and the shorts she wore would hardly pass for much at the beach, so the fact that now her legs were making very close contact with him was extremely embarrassing. She slid to the side quickly, thinking of ways to get out of this, and turned her head to yell at him or something.

She found that his face was very close to hers and he was grinning maliciously, his fingers still clutching at her hips. Her breath caught in her throat and she froze, not knowing what to do.

"What do you want?" she asked, trying to sound strong but barely managing a whisper.

The Joker's hands slid up her torso slightly.

"I don't forget things," he whispered, still grinning. "It's not something I do, Jesster. And I expect you not to forget anything, either."

Jess shook her head, eyes wide.

"I won't forget anything," she said. "Whatever you say. I promise."

The Joker sighed. Jess was painfully aware of how physically intimate they were. Her legs were all but draped over his lower body and their faces were far too close for comfort.

"Promises," he said. "People make so many promises." He leaned closer, his lips less than an inch from hers. "Don't be so ordinary, Jess," he whispered. "It doesn't suit you."

And, grinning, he kissed her.

Jess pulled back immediately, breathing heavily.

"That's not supposed to happen," she rasped. "You're not supposed to do that."

The Joker let out a mad wail of laughter.

"I'm not supposed to?!" he asked hysterically. "Is this," he squeezed her hips, "not exactly what you had in mind when you came here? Am I ruining your little plans, Jesster? Am I spoiling your day?!"

"No, I mean..."

"Then why am I not supposed to, hmm?"

Jess shook her head, honestly having no idea. Getting out of this seemed impossible and on top of all of it, she wasn't even sure she wanted to!

"This is so messed up," Jess whispered, leaning forward to kiss him again.

Their lips met firmly and the Joker pushed a hand through her hair, pulling her head back by the blond roots and melding his mouth with her jaw line and neck. He was shaking, probably from excitement, and Jess closed her eyes, her hands clutching at his sleeves as he pushed her back onto the cot to lay down.

With a deep breath he climbed over her, kneeling up, his hands braced against the mattress above her shoulders, his knees settled on either side of her hips. He leaned back and Jess took the opportunity to study his bare face. He pushed his hair out of his face, one hand still tangled in her locks, and smiled, baring his teeth to her as though to say "Gotcha!"

The Joker kissed Jess again, warmly but a bit roughly.

Jess was surprised at how different he felt without the makeup. His lips seemed softer and there wasn't such definition of the scars where his paint usually settled into the bumps and cracks. She liked this better.

He deepened it, breathing as heavily as he usually did when he was doing something that thrilled him, making strangled groaning noises every so often.

Jess was totally captivated, totally turned on by this whole thing. He had settled on top of her. The hands that ran over her body were warm and forward, completely in control and whenever she did something he didn't like--like try to move into another position or kiss along his scars--he'd make an angry noise and tighten his grip on her painfully until she stopped trying.

And so it went.

Jess was lying on her bed around three o'clock in the morning, just sort of making out with the Joker himself.

And she was completely fine with that?

Well… Yes.

She was.

More than fine with it.

She fucking loved it.

He lived for the experience, for the ecstasy of danger and the rush of blood to the head. It shouldn't have been surprising that he'd like to do something like this.

He seemed to enjoy making her squirm in pain or tease her. Every time she gasped when he bit too hard or his hands lingered for too long near her waistband he'd chuckle and just keep going, careless of what she wanted. He took it all for himself, like always.

That wasn't to say he paid no attention to her. When his hands tried to slip up her shirt and she pushed them back down he didn't try again… though Jess wasn't sure she'd have stopped him again if he had.

Perhaps he knew that, and knowing so gave him more victory than acting like a teenaged boy and pushing for more could have.

She hated seeing him win, but there didn't seem to be many ways to do anything but facilitate it these days.

Jess wanted very badly to touch his face, his scars, to prove to herself that this was real and that it was actually the Joker who was kissing her, whose hands were sliding over her and whose body kept hers pinned against the bed.

She twisted her hands out of where he had trapped them in his behind her back as though simply to prove to her that he was the one with the power here.

Well. He couldn't have it all.

Jess pushed his ever-messy hair back and ran a finger down the side of his face, meeting the end of one of the scars at his cheekbone and tracing it back slowly, towards his mouth.

As soon as he felt what she was doing, the Joker stiffened and pulled away, grabbing her wrist angrily, his eyes burning. He threw her hand roughly on the bed, pushed against her shoulder to sit up, and climbed off without a word or a second chance.

Breathing heavily, Jess sat up after him, immediately sorry. He stood with his back to her and stretched his arms over his head, ran a hand through his hair to tame it and started for the door silently.

"Wait," Jess said, her shoulders slumped.

The Joker stopped, one hand on the doorframe, and turned back slowly to look at her. His eyes were still dark and looked livid. Jess's breath caught in her throat. She'd seriously pissed him off.

"I mean… That's it? You're just leaving?"

"You wanted something, Jesster?" he asked, his voice balanced softly on the edge of breaking. "What was that, exactly?"

Jess felt like she was going to cry. She'd almost forgotten how cruel he was.

"Please stay," she whispered, not sure how she'd be able to sleep now.

The room seemed so much colder without him. The Joker turned back towards the hallway and laughed softly.

"You're asking me," he said, "to stay?"

"Yeah," Jess said.

The Joker chuckled again, his head dropping and his shoulders shaking in mirth, but the laugh was bitter. He brought a hand to his face to wipe at his eyes, watering from his laughter.

"Night, Jesster," he laughed.

No! Jess could not let tonight end like this!

She jumped out of bed as he started to walk out of the door, catching him by the shoulder in the hallway, turning him around forcibly and kissing him roughly, grabbing around his neck.

The Joker stepped back in surprise, his hands poised to push her off but never quite going through with it.

She opened her eyes to look up into his, finding them wide open and staring down at her in amusement.

She broke the kiss immediately and found herself standing in front of him sheepishly, suddenly aware of the fact that she was only wearing a t-shirt and boxers. The Joker tilted his head at her, eyebrows raised as though he expected her to speak.

"Um…" Jess muttered, "Yeah. So… good night?"

The Joker laughed.

"Sure, Jesster," he said, turning away to walk off down the hallway. "Sure."

Blushing furiously, Jess slumped back into her room, feeling a mix of embarrassment, confusion and…

Oh God.

Complete bliss.


	19. Chapter 19

**Hey! So I know it took a while and I apologize. But on a list of things I should be doing right now, posting this is not there. I SHOULD be sleeping because I have school tomorrow. But I'm being a GOOD author! :D**

**So... Listen to:**

**Sharpest Lives- My Chemical Romance**

**City of Delusion- Muse**

**Both perfect for Lucky Twenty/ Joker crime sprees.**

**Umm... This has more drug use. Consider this chapter rated M.**

**So much thanks to soaringphoenix86! Your suggestion was seriously A LOT of help! I think you'll find this a little familiar… :)**

**Thank you for the reviews! I love them!**

* * *

"What're you thinking over there?"

"Huh?"

Jess blinked and looked up suddenly, the gentle voice jarring her from her far away thoughts, to where Billy and Laurence were leaning against the counter in the rec room, each with a bowl of cereal. It was relatively early in the morning but Jess had been unable to sleep—and for good reason—so she had come in here to watch TV and read to put her busy and conflicted mind to rest. She'd ended up sitting silently on the couch, staring blankly into nothing, and thinking.

"You're awfully quiet this morning," Billy said, the light hearted smile on his face fading as he realized this was true and started to worry that something was wrong with her.

Jess smiled reassuringly at him, trying to hide all the conflict she felt inside after last night…

After the Joker's visit…

Oh but thinking about it now wouldn't help anything!

"I'm fine," she said firmly, as much to herself as to Billy.

She stood up and crossed to them and Billy tossed her and orange from the bowl on the counter, a subtle reminder to eat something. He was always looking out for her.

As she peeled the fruit, Jess couldn't help but allow her mind to wander back to last night, to remember the Joker's hands on her, warm and possessive, and his perfect mouth working down her jaw line.

"… saw him so restless, you know? I mean, Keith's kind of the calm one."

Jess started, almost dropping the orange. It hadn't been until Laurence had finished his statement that she was even aware he was talking. She snapped out of her thoughts to find orange juice dripping over her hands and Laurence and Billy looking at her, concerned.

"Wait, I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head and wiping her hands on her jeans. She put the orange on the counter, not very hungry anymore.

"What's the matter, Jess?" Billy asked, leaning forward. "What's on your mind?"

Jess blushed immediately and looked away.

"Nothing," she said, too quickly.

Both men simply stared at her.

"No, I just had a long night. Bad dreams." She turned away from their questioning gazes and leaned, trying to be casual, against the counter.

Billy kept regarding her suspiciously.

"Don't look at me like that!" Jess exclaimed. "I'm fine, I swear. Just tired!"

Billy cocked a skeptical eyebrow.

"You sure?"

"Yes! Jesus, Billy, what are you? My father?"

"Whoa!" Billy raised his hands in surrender and Jess slumped. "Hey, kiddo, chill it, huh?" he said, smiling at her defensiveness. There was still a look of curiosity in his eyes.

Jess put a hand to her forehead, telling herself sternly to calm down.

If she acted weird and jumpy or spacey, people might find out. And that…

Oh Jesus. She could _not_ let that happen. It wasn't only that he was the Joker and everyone would flip out if they knew what she'd been doing with him (Had _she_ really been doing those things anyway? How could it be possible that he'd want to kiss _her_?). On top of that, Jess was significantly less than positive that _he_ wanted anyone knowing. Was she supposed to keep it a secret?

She wished she could just talk with the Joker plainly about this—ask him what he meant by kissing her like he did last night and if they were, like, official or something. She wished she didn't have to play his stupid, malicious, complicated games.

But there was no way to reach him otherwise.

"I'm sorry," she said again to Billy.

"It's okay," he replied.

He was worried. Jess could see it. He knew something was up but he was too… what? Afraid? Hesitant?... to ask.

And that was sort of okay right now.

Jess gave him a smile, or an attempt at a smile, one which she had hoped would look natural but she was relatively sure came out looking strained.

She sighed, dropped the grin and reached for a slice of her orange.

"So," she said, slowly chewing the juicy fruit, "what are we doing today?"

Laurence leaned forward, his glittering smile set off by eyes shining with anticipation.

"Boss mentioned something about practice. For the funeral." He chuckled. "We get new guns."

"What funeral?" Jess asked.

"You don't remember?" Billy asked.

Jess frowned and shook her head, wondering what he meant. Laurence laughed.

"She was pretty wasted that night, Laur," Billy told him. He turned to Jess. "A few nights ago, when you went to that apartment with the boss… and those two guys…"

Jess nodded, remembering.

Well, not really _remembering_, but knowing which night he meant.

"The blurry night," she said with a giggle, referencing the white pill and its effects. "What about it?"

"Check it out," Laurence said, grinning and tossing a rolled up newspaper at her, a few days old.

She caught it and looked at it. _Gotham Times_. Nothing special.

"Obituaries," Billy offered.

Jess shuffled the newspaper and turned to the page of recent deaths.

It wasn't hard to figure out what she was supposed to see.

A huge picture of Gotham's mayor took up nearly a quarter of the page, along with a caption reading, "Anthony Garcia, the beloved mayor of our city, dies today at 38."

Underneath that, tomorrow's date.

Jess gasped.

"He's going to kill the _mayor_?" she asked incredulously, stealing another glance at the page. "_Tomorrow_?!"

She was almost impressed by the Joker's creativity. It was a rather in depth obituary of a man who, as of that moment, was alive and well. A threat. A warning.

To warn the city of a murder attempt before actually attempting it took serious guts.

"He's going to _assassinate_ the mayor," Billy amended, as though that made it any better than murder.

"Tomorrow is the funeral of Commissioner Loeb," Laurence said. "The mayor's making a speech. And we…" He smiled. "We're gonna be part of the parade."

"Hold on," Jess said, furrowing her eyebrows as she hopped up to sit on the ledge of counter space. "When did Commissioner Loeb die?!"

Billy snorted with laughter and Laurence rolled his eyes good humouredly.

* * *

Jess soon found out what Laurence had meant by "practice."

Around noon, twelve men—including White and Schiff—piled into a van.

Jess tagged along for fear of the boredom she knew would strike if she sat in the theater for the rest of the day. She was able to keep out of sight of the Joker for most of the time. He looked busy, preoccupied, and Jess had watched from a safe distance while he had helped the men load a large crate and three dummies into the vehicle.

It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to him—indeed, she would have loved to have a little chat, maybe answer a few questions—but she didn't know how he'd react to her after last night and she didn't want anyone to know of their secret. So, she avoided any contact with the boss and jumped into the back of the van while the Joker went up to the cab.

She sat on the soft stomach of a dummy for the thirty minute drive.

Jess, as well as the rest of the Lucky Twenty, no longer found any qualms about driving around in the dark interior of the van's storage compartment. A few of them still looked a little queasy after a particularly rough ride, but otherwise everyone had come to accept it. Jess even found a bit of comfort in the heavy darkness of the trunk, in only hearing the men's voices or their movements.

Darkness wasn't a demon here. It was safe.

She had a feeling that if she ever found herself in danger in Gotham, she'd immediately run for the back doors of one of these vans.

* * *

They unloaded in an open field about five miles beyond city limits, a place surrounded by chain liked fences and barbed wire. The ground was dusty, with dried weeds poking up out of it every couple of yards and swaying lazily in the wind.

When Jess jumped out of the back of the van, she stretched, taking a deep breath of fresh air. She'd forgotten how good it was to be outside during the day, to watch the blue sky and sparse clouds, to feel the warmth of the sun.

She wandered around, sticking close to the van, and spotted a copse of trees about fifty yards to the left of where they were parked.

As the men hoisted the crate out of the vehicle and started to set up the three dummies as targets—Jess had assumed it was some sort of shot practice anyway, so she wasn't surprised to find rifles coming out of the vans next—she wandered to the trees' outer edges and took a seat on a mossy fallen log, reveling in the summertime warmth.

The Joker was strutting around by the men, she saw, drawing lines on the ground with the butt of a rifle and posing the mannequins into obscene positions, a blue military uniform hat placed askew, for whatever reason, atop his light green hair.

It was odd to see him in daylight, Jess realized. Before, she'd only ever watched him obscure himself in darkness or beneath the dim light of a flickering bulb. He was a true creature of the dark. But now, somehow, the sunlight was flattering on him. Bathed in the gentle glow of Earth's closest star, it forgave him the scars and the cracked skin and the sweat streaked makeup.

He was, to Jess at least, a beautiful tragedy, trying to pass himself off as a monster.

The members of the Lucky Twenty, including Drew and Blake—Billy was absent due to his healing arm—as well as the members of Arkham's Finest, White and Schiff, were being lined up into two columns, facing each other, and the Joker walked down the center with White, handing all of the men along the way a decorative, but surely operative, military rifle. Jess frowned.

Laurence had mentioned being part of the parade. Were they going to pass themselves off as some float and shoot the mayor during the procession?

She stood, curious, and walked towards them. The men were all talking and joking, pretending to stand straight and look serious before snorting at how ridiculous the person beside them looked doing the same thing. That would all change, Jess knew, as soon as the Joker took it in his head to call them to attention. But for now, he allowed their chatting.

Jess walked to the head of the lines and looked down at her men, fiddling with a spare rifle she'd found on the ground. She cocked her head, still trying to figure out what kind of float used guns and why there would be an actual float in a funeral parade anyway.

When the Joker placed his uniform cap on Schiff's head and the man giggled shiftily, it all clicked. Jess laughed.

"You're supposed to be the Honor Guard," she chuckled to Keith, who stood at mock attention to her right.

"That's right, kiddo," he said, slumping back into his usual posture. "When the mayor gets on that platform…" He raised his rifle and aimed playfully into the air. "Bang! We pop the old man in the head."

Jess cringed at the visual and distanced herself from the mayor. She'd never met him, after all, and she knew what the Joker was trying to do. The mayor was a symbol of Gotham's authority and order. Killing him would plunge the city into chaos.

And it would probably bring out the Batman.

The Joker hadn't mentioned the caped crusader much, but every time he heard something about the vigilante his ears seemed to perk up and he'd join in enthusiastically.

You didn't have to be Einstein to figure out the Joker's obsessions.

It seemed to be less about the Batman himself, though. The Joker was obsessed with who the Batman _wasn't_. That was, his secret identity. Because when that was out, the Batman was out. And the Joker wanted to know so that he could control whether or not it got out.

If he was always holding over the Batman's head that he knew who he _really_ was…

Those consequences Jess wasn't ready to face. And neither, she was sure, were the rest of the Twenty. As loyal to their boss as they were, the idea of facilitating his discovery of Bruce Wayne was not appealing. Their whole world could unravel, never mind what it would do to Gotham or the Dark Knight himself.

Jess, actually, was a little concerned for the Joker, too.

Winning this battle would be like killing the Batman. Jess knew enough from the comics that this would unravel the Joker's being. Without an archenemy, he'd forget how to exist. The Batman had, or would, change everything and the Joker didn't _really_ want to know.

He wanted an excuse to wreak anarchy.

But he was _obsessed_ with knowing.

Jess shook her head at the irony.

"Men," she muttered.

Was the Joker even a man?

"What about my gender?" Keith asked.

Jess blinked. She hadn't realized he was there anymore. Her thoughts seemed to be eating her up more and more as of late.

What was wrong with her?

"You're doing it all wrong," she said hurriedly, trying to cover up her space out. "Your back is too hunched."

Keith frowned and arched his back out. Jess laughed.

"Here," she said, placing the straight rifle against Keith's back. "Conform your shape to this."

It had worked when the yoga instructor at the gym she used to go to had placed a bamboo rod against her to keep her back straight, and a gun would get Keith's attention. He immediately straightened to it as best he could. Jess nodded and took the gun away, backing up.

"Better," she said.

Keith grinned but stayed still, afraid to lose this disciplined position.

"Tilt your chin up," Jess ordered, laughing despite herself. This was kind of fun! She wondered why she'd never tried directing before.

Keith's chin immediately shot up into the air and she had to push it back down until he looked proud but not ridiculous.

"Now," Jess said, "put the rifle to your shoulder and complete the look."

Keith clumsily held the rifle up and Jess, now laughing freely, molded his arm and wrist joints so that he looked stiff and regimented. She backed away, noticing that by now more than a few of the men had tried to imitate Keith. Apparently, she'd started with the one with the best posture of the group, because her men were failing dismally to look anything close to controlled. Well… except for Powers, whom she knew used to be a police officer before what he called "the incident" had plunged him into the New York drug world. He'd been one of those corrupt cops, more interested in helping the crime lords than hurting them, for two years before the Joker had contacted him.

"Well, _my_ work here is done," the Joker said from close by… _too_ close by.

Jess turned to find him leaning against his rifle, just behind her. He paced up to her and studied Keith, his eyebrows raised, impressed. Then, he cleared his throat, turned to Powers and motioned for him to step out of line to teach. Powers immediately began coaching the men on their Honor Guard posture, using much the same technique as Jess had, only hitting them when they got it wrong.

The Joker slid an arm around her shoulder and whispered, "Let's take a walk" in her ear.

Shuddering despite the warm sun, Jess let him lead her along.

* * *

They arrived quickly at the grove of trees she'd visited earlier. Jess looked back and found that Powers was doing his job well, coaching them in the movements to use and the positions to take. It wasn't long before a few scattered shots were fired into the air, causing the birds in the trees to take flight.

"Come on," the Joker muttered, pulling her in between the trees so that she could no longer see the group.

She could have felt nervous… she _should_ have felt nervous. But the sunlight and the chirping birds and the light and the varied, muffled orders Powers barked at the men made it difficult, especially when the Joker backed away and gave her some space.

She turned to him and watched as he leaned against a tree, his dark eyes coming up to study her face.

"You've been _avoiding_ me," he said lowly, softly.

Jess shook her head.

"No," she said. "You've been busy today."

The Joker giggled slightly, staring at her so long that she broke eye contact out of sheer discomfort and looked to the ground.

"I notice a lot," the Joker said. "You of _all_ people… You oughta know that."

Jess shrugged, deciding to come clean.

"I wasn't sure what your reaction would be," she said, "after last night, I mean. I wasn't sure you wanted anyone to know. I wasn't sure _I_ wanted anyone to know."

"How _common_ of you, Jesster," the Joker said with a laugh. "And how… _whimsical_. I don't know what sort of…" he cleared his throat, "teenaged _fantasies_ you have whirling around in that little brain of yours but _this_…" He took a step towards her and she managed not to shrink away. "This, uh… _thing_ we have going here? It doesn't need to be secretive. See, I'm just not that _invested _in it. _Secret_ denotes _importance_."

Jess shook her head, forcing herself not to feel the pain that had hit her at his words. It wasn't true. She _knew_ he was lying. She could tell.

"I'm calling you on that one," Jess said, her eyes frosty as she looked at him. His grin fell off.

"Huh?"

"If you weren't, as you so _charmingly_ put it, _invested_ in me, then you wouldn't have bothered to invite me here in the first place."

The Joker opened his mouth to say something, doubtlessly a cunning comeback that would leave her ego shattered and her gasping for breath. But she started speaking again without letting him.

"You wouldn't have bothered to ever kiss me in the first place or get all pissed when _I_ rejected_ you_. You wouldn't be speaking to me right now and you _certainly_ wouldn't have visited me last night. If you weren't interested in me, if you didn't feel invested in me, I'd be at the curb by now, kicked out or ignored. So don't feed me your bullshit about how _unimportant_ I am to you, you stupid fucking bastard!"

Her voice had risen to a yell and at the conclusion of her words, before she'd realized it, the Joker's knife was drawn and he had hurdled at her, slamming her against the rough bark of a maple tree behind her, his blade pressed sharply into her cheek.

Instant regret flooded her. He had that look in his eyes: merciless, infuriated. Ready to kill. Finally, she'd said too much.

"Y'know, I'm never less than _surprised_ at your idiocy, _Jess_," the Joker hissed savagely.

Jess could feel, as the blade dug into her skin, a small well of blood forming along her cheekbone.

"I won't lie, though. I'm _always_ impressed by you. You just have this way of…" he closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, as though completely disgusted or annoyed, "always saying the _wrong_ thing." He opened his eyes and found hers, frowning as brown gaze met brown gaze, a sudden pensive look crossing his features. "And you mentioned being curbed, trashed. You don't have to tell _me_ you're still here. I mean, _I _know I haven't gotten rid of you. You remind me every day. But that's hardly _my _fault."

He paused, took a shallow breath and glanced to the side, paranoid.

"Y'see, I find something very… _strange_ happening to me. It's _change. _It's your… _song_. But somehow, this time… I don't _like_ what it's doing."

Jess waited for him to go on but he didn't.

"What's that?" she asked softly, figuring he wanted her to buy into his bait.

His gaze shifted away uncomfortably and he licked his lips. It was a few moments before he answered, his voice soft, once again on the edge of breaking.

"I don't _want_ to kill you," he muttered.

Then, with no more ado, he shoved her roughly against the tree, backed away, turned and left her, heading for the men on the other end of the field.

Jess stayed frozen at the tree, trying to catch her breath, a hand pushed against her chest, eyes wide with shock. Slowly, she slid down the tree trunk and sat, staring into nothing, as she mulled over his words.

"I don't want to kill you," the Joker had said.

Holy shit! Coming from him, that was like telling her he was in love with her!

It was possibly the sweetest compliment she'd ever receive from him. She was determined to relish it.

Jess closed her eyes and kept the image of his scarred, imperfect, beautiful lips forming those words in her mind's eye for as long as she could, even as closely grouped shots from twelve different guns split the silence.

* * *

A couple of hours later, the men were still going at it, but their technique had greatly improved. Jess leaned against the back of the van with Blake, who was taking a well deserved break, and watched as Powers barked some incomprehensible order—incomprehensible to Jess, anyway; to the men it seemed perfectly understandable—and, as one, the men hit the butts of their guns against the ground and brought them uniformly up to their shoulders.

Powers barked another command, something that must have been equivalent to "aim," because the men raised their muzzles into the high into the air, the two columns and guns looking like a tunnel of soldiers. Then…

"Fire!"

BANG! The sound was deafening and despite being ready for it, Jess still jumped.

"Fire!"

Again, all the guns in the group went off, perfectly in unison.

Jess couldn't keep her eyes from straying towards where the Joker stood, a rifle to his shoulder. He was the best of the lot, in aim as well as style. Obviously if the man put his mind to something, he didn't fail. He was going to be the one to swing around on the third shot and put a bullet between the eyes of the mayor, and he never once missed his target of the dummy set up quite a ways away from the gunmen. The mannequin was peppered with holes by now, and most of its head was gone.

"Alright!" Powers called, smiling widely and wiping sweat off of his brow, gathered there from the heat of the midday sun. "If it's cool with you, boss, I think these guys are ready!"

The Joker didn't smile. He looked around at his group of criminals very seriously, weighing the pros and cons of staying out and doing some more work. Finally, he nodded.

"Into the vans," he ordered, tossing his gun at Powers and heading towards the vehicles.

On his way past her, the Joker casually pulled Jess to his side and helped her climb up into the cab. She caught the confused looks of a few men and the shaking heads of Drew and Blake, but was distracted when the Joker actually pulled her onto his lap, her back against the car door. Blake, torn between a smirk and a grimace of disgust, only glanced at them as he got into the driver's seat.

The Joker was humming lowly, his face as serene as it could be, and his fingers drummed her hip bones gently. Jess shifted until she was comfortable, sitting sideways on the Joker, and tried to hide the blush on her face as the car started.

* * *

About five minutes into the drive home, the Joker shifted and pulled a small white pill box from his pocket.

"Want one?" he asked, smiling at Jess, who looked down to see the same little capsules she'd had a few nights ago.

Her eyes widened, surprised at just how tempted she was to take one, and nodded slowly. The Joker laughed, popped a pill into his mouth, withdrew one for Jess and threw the box carelessly at Blake, who immediately swallowed one.

**(A/N: DRIVING UNDER THE INFLUENCE IS DANGEROUS AND STUPID. BLAKE IS DANGEROUS AND STUPID. Remember, they're criminals. You're (probably) not.)**

The Joker turned to Jess, the little piece of magic shining between his fingers. Jess stared at it.

She hadn't been aware before now just how much she'd liked the feeling of the drug coursing through her veins. There'd been no craving, no withdrawal. But now, with the drug in sight… She wanted it more than she could possibly say.

"Open wide…" the Joker said darkly, a malicious smile curving his lips.

Jess opened her mouth enough for him to place the pill slowly between her lips. Bravely laying half a kiss on his fingers when they touched her mouth, Jess swallowed the pill, ready this time for the effect it would have on her. She looked into the Joker's rapidly dilating pupils and sighed.

Tonight had just gotten a whole lot more fun.

* * *

They were at the theater before Jess really realized she was high. But she was.

Oh, she was.

The world was beautiful once more and, if anything, this experience was more intense than before.

She jumped smoothly out of the van once they had parked, wobbling slightly as she realized she was no longer moving, watching the other men gather around those with pill boxes—apparently there were more than one in circulation between the Lucky Twenty and an almost infinite supply of the pills from various hookups around Gotham—or light joints in the cool air. Jess watched the smoke blow away hazily, leaning on the Joker for support as they walked towards their home.

His hands around her hips were steadying and comforting, but more than that. Tonight she was invariably attracted to him, wanting him freely now that there were no barriers of sensibility to get in the way.

She was high. She could afford to want him.

She clutched his back and laughed as he kicked open the fire escape door and led her inside, mumbling words she didn't care to understand. After a moment, she realized he was speaking again in French, talking to himself, but she couldn't take the time to translate his words, not when the hallway was tilting so beautifully.

His red lipstick was the only thing she could see in the dark, and his mouth and scars tantalized her, as beautiful as everything else but more so because they weren't supposed to be. Jess sighed, giggled, and leaned into him.

"Thanks, J," she whispered, deciding suddenly that "J" was the perfect name for him. "For the pill, I mean."

"Don't thank me just yet, Jesster," the Joker muttered. Jess frowned.

"Why?"

"_Because_," he said, "you don't know what _I'm_ thinking."

Jessica nodded. Somehow, it made sense to her.

"Okay," she said. "I take it back. I _don't_ thank you."

The Joker chuckled and pushed open the door to the rec room. Jess blinked, surprised they were already there and surprised to hear the voices of the men behind her. For a while she'd been sure they were alone.

"Y'know, Jesster," the Joker, "I _like_ you when you're like this. You're so… _cheerful_. You oughta try that more often."

Jess nodded.

"I should," she agreed.

* * *

Pounding music. Flood of lights. Grinding bodies. Pushing hands.

For a while, it was easy to imagine she was back home, at a concert with friends.

Dancing represented freedom from self here, just as the Joker had mentioned. She threw her arms around each of the members of the Lucky Twenty in turn, loving the feel of their rhythm matching hers. It wasn't that she was a good dancer—usually she hated it—but everyone was drunk or high or both and inhibition was gone with the wind.

She'd lost track of the Joker long ago, but sometimes caught glimpses of him on the couch, surrounded by henchmen, laughing or talking or shouting or smiling.

Usually smiling.

Sometimes he was drinking. Sometimes he was smoking or pill popping or inhaling a pinch of white powder up his nose. Sometimes he just sat there with a faraway look, lost in his own haze of drug abuse.

But mostly, when Jess caught sight of him, he was smiling.

"Babe, you've got no rhythm," Billy muttered into her ear.

She'd been spending most of her time dancing with him tonight, but that was to be expected. If another man pulled her away, she'd go laughing but, as always, Jess found herself coming back to Billy. It was fun to see him in the same state she was in. Usually so careful with her, so intense, so serious about her safety, tonight Billy encouraged her to act as crazy as she could and danced with her in a way that was far beyond innocent.

But, of course, how could she ever care what Billy did when she was thinking so much about the Joker?

"I've got rhythm," Jess argued, laughing as she stumbled. Billy pulled her closer. "I am just very, very wasted, Billy. It's hardly _my_ fault."

Billy's grin faltered momentarily, as though he'd heard something in her voice that bothered him, but after a second his smile was back.

"No one's blaming you for your lack of dance skills," he slurred. "I'm sure you've got plenty of other skills to make up for it."

Jess laughed, not hearing the flirtation in his tone.

"Oh sure," she said. "I'm a skilled ninja!"

She loved making Billy laugh, especially when what she'd said made no sense. His chuckle was golden warm honey, deep and easy, and when he was amusedly bewildered by her words there was a playful ring to it.

"Oh, Jess," he sighed, putting his head against her shoulder. "You know I love you, right?"

Jess nodded, nuzzling him.

"I love you too, Billy."

Billy pulled away slightly, looking deeply into her eyes. Through the swirling madness of her drug laden mind, suddenly there were only Billy's bright green irises, beautiful and unique. Like stars.

She was so busy looking at them that she didn't notice they'd gotten closer.

It wasn't until she felt Billy's lips on hers that she realized what happened.

Before she could react, pull away, apologize somehow for whatever she'd done to make him think that was okay, Billy was shoved off of her by unseen hands, too quickly for Jess to register.

Blinking in confusion, Jess turned and watched in a blur as, almost in slow motion with colors streaming out behind him, Billy stumbled back and growled angrily at his assailant.

A laugh, high and mocking, split the ambiance and Jess found herself being pulled away, a hand tight around her armm, still unsure as to what was going on.

As she was pulled to the hallway, she looked back at Billy.

He was yelling something she couldn't hear over the music, looking more angry, more hurt, than she'd ever seen him.

For a moment she wanted to go back and ask what was wrong, but the hand around her wrist tightened and she whirled away into the darkness of the theater corridors.


	20. Lucky Chapter 20

******Welcome to Lucky Chapter Twenty!!**

******So I did something weird. Usually, when I have little inspiration, I jump ahead to the next big event. I didn't this time. This entire chapter is Jess and Joker development. Not only that, it's ONE SCENE. A nine page scene. I know!!**

**Anyway, I love you all! Thank you so much for your amazing reviews and suggestions!! I take each one to heart.**

**REVIEW PLEASE!!! I hope you like...**

* * *

Okay, where was she?

Jess looked around blearily. The ground tilted at her.

Ah.

She was in the greenroom.

The window was open and she could hear the fuzzy sound of far away sirens and the night wind. The only light came from the dim moon, high above the earth, a glowing orb that lent the world illumination even during the night.

Jess couldn't remember for the life of her exactly _how_ she'd gotten there. Last thing she remembered was Billy holding her, dancing with her…

Kissing her?

Had he kissed her?

How long ago had that been?

A few minutes ago at most, she figured, but she could no longer remember the walk down the hallway. Suddenly, she was irrationally paranoid that she could no longer make new memories, like Guy Pearce's character in _Memento_ or something.

Jess tapped the side of her head and the following vibrations buzzed pleasantly through her skull.

Oh.

That's why the last few minutes were blank.

She was high.

Why was she here again?

"Jesster, Jesster, Jesster, Jesster, Jesster…"

Jess turned towards the voice calling her name and found the Joker leaning by the door, that permanent smile plastered on his face.

Jess couldn't help but smile back.

Her grin soon faded, however, when she realized his lips weren't actually curved and his eyes were far from happy. They were furious.

"You're mad at me?" Jess whispered desperately, suddenly wanting to cry.

A flicker of confusion crossed the Joker's face, as though he was at a loss as to why she suddenly looked so broken. He closed his eyes, trying not to be irritated.

"Not you. Not _exactly_," he said.

Jess took a step towards him.

"Then what? Why are you upset? Is it Billy? I didn't want him to kiss me. I swear I didn't!"

The Joker chuckled slightly at her outburst, but his laugh was humorless.

"Sure, Jesster," he said, and she couldn't be clear whether or not he believed her.

There was a moment of silence. Jess had no idea what to say and she lost whatever words she would usually have found herself spouting. She couldn't concentrate too long on one thing. She couldn't _do _this right now. She was too high.

"You oughta stay here," the Joker said, glancing behind him, towards the hall, and licked his lips shiftily.

Jess frowned and took another step forward.

"Where are you going?" she asked, unable to keep disappointment from her voice.

The world tilted and swayed as she reached for him. The Joker's shoulders stiffened and he turned back to look at her, obviously annoyed by her questions.

"Why do you _care_?" he asked with a sigh.

That one stopped Jess. What could she say to that? How would it go over if she just out and told him she cared about every little thing he did because he was the most interesting, most addictive, most enchanting person she'd ever met and all she wanted to do was watch him?

It took her a moment to realize that that was all true.

But she couldn't _possibly_ tell him that.

Never.

"I don't want you to hurt Billy," she said instead.

As soon as the words left her lips she knew it had been the wrong thing to say.

Suddenly the Joker was grinning so widely she was sure his face would split in half, and that image captivated her momentarily, so strongly that she even fancied it happening. Not a hallucination, not really, but a very vivid picture that translated itself onto the real Joker's face. His features seemed to rip in half, vertically down the forehead, over the nose, over the mouth, and the bits flopped aside revealing just another Joker grin.

Jess stepped back, a flash of horror crossing her features, one the Joker caught but couldn't possibly know the reason behind.

It made his grin widen, however, and Jess's eyes flicked down to the floor, unable to watch his face in case her vision came to pass.

"_Yeah_," he said, the syllable stretching on into silence. "You and, this… this _Billy_."

He shook his head and took a slow step forward. Jess couldn't help but inhale sharply as she watched his boots come towards her. She wanted to shrink down into the floor and hide in the darkness of the carpet, away from the eyes she knew were probing her, figuring her, unraveling her.

She'd never seen eyes like his, caught halfway between madness and genius, walking the thin line between.

She wouldn't go on to be a poet, not even in her mind, and say that he had the moon and stars in his eyes or that she could see the tragedies of his past welling up there.

She wouldn't say that his every act was chaotic beauty and every move he made was a song.

She wouldn't say these things because they weren't true.

Every time she spoke with him, Jess came to a new understanding about him: small inferences into his character that piled up to create his image in her head.

He didn't have the moon or stars in his eyes. He had anger, paranoia, ever watchful cunning.

She couldn't see his past there. She saw nothing of what he was even a moment before. When he changed, he changed completely and there was _nothing_ of what he once was. The tragedies of everyone he used to be were gone: not in his mind or his eyes.

She wouldn't say his movements were song or beauty because they weren't. Those she couldn't describe.

She'd likened him to a monster before, and an angel. She'd likened him to fire, ice, a magnet, a force.

It was only now, in this drugged haze, that Jess had the clarity to realize that he wasn't any of those things.

So what was he?

Did he have a definition?

She was starting to think he didn't.

But did that make him more than human?

Jess was startled to find that she was on the ground, sitting there with her knees up to her chest. She couldn't remember sinking down. She must have done so while she'd been thinking.

Forgetting her fear of his face, Jess looked up to the Joker, standing above her.

"Y'know," he said, continuing his thought from before, "I _knew_ you two were little, uh… _buddies_. Bosom companions. But, until _tonight_, I didn't know just how _close_ you really are. Hm?"

He shook his head and looked up to the ceiling, choosing his next words, his mouth opening and closing slightly. He let out a wheezy chuckle.

"Oh, I mean, I shouldn't be too… _thunderstruck_ by it. You _are_ a little jester. You play games and _toy_ with them. _I _see it. I'm almost _impressed._"

Jess frowned, trying to make sense of his words.

She was coming down, she recognized, and the imminent sobriety was not making this any easier, so as she thought over what he said, she found the meaning of his words created a stark, violent contrast against the euphoria of her high, and they pierced her more painfully than she'd anticipated.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she demanded, standing up.

The Joker raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, _there_ you are, Jesster," he said. "See, I could've _sworn_ you were off…" he flicked his hand in the air and giggled, "_floating_ in space!"

"What was that supposed to _mean_, Joker?" Jess demanded again, this time more fiercely.

"_Oh!_ You're using my _name_! You _must_ be angry."

His smiled suggested he was more than pleased by it. Rage boiled up in Jessica's chest and bile mounted her throat. She stomped towards him, the edges of her vision red.

"Did you practically call me a _slut_?" she asked, enraged.

The Joker's eyebrows shot up at this and he looked to his side.

"_Me_?" he said, grinning hugely. "Now, Jesster, would I say _that_?"

He thought a moment, then laughed.

Jess let out a strangled scream of fury and jumped at him, planning on clawing that stupid fucking smile off his face.

She didn't know what she had expected, attacking him like that. Maybe she'd thought he would laugh and let her try to rip at him, allow her to kick him until she calmed down.

That was sort of what any _good_ boyfriend would do in this situation.

She was already on him when she came to the gut wrenching recognition that he was neither good, nor her boyfriend.

And then she felt him push her forcefully away, his hand closing roughly enough to leave bruises around her upper arm and throwing her off.

She stumbled back, somehow only spurred on and she lunged at him again, fresh tears flowing down her face without knowing why she was crying.

He pushed her away almost immediately, even more fiercely, this time a growl ripping from his throat. She staggered back a few more paces than last time, almost falling into the couch, and then came at him once more, hands flying, arms waving violently, striking blows anywhere she could. She pulled at his hair and scratched his face, not caring whether or not all her blow landed, only operating on the hope that some did.

For a single second, his hands dropped and he let her beat at him.

Then, suddenly, over her cries of hate and shrieks of mindless wrath, he growled again, loudly, and she was pushed away with an intense force.

She staggered back wildly, her chest hurting from where he'd pushed, and slammed into a wall at the corner of the room, shoulder blade catching the edge of the corner and blasting her with a sharp, cutting pain. She could feel a section of the skin on her back break and the beginning blood as it started to seep from the cut.

The breathe was knocked out of her, her vision was going blurry, and she slid to the ground, sobbing and shaking and trying to catch her lost wind.

The Joker was on her in a matter of seconds, dragging her to the center of the room and throwing her down again. He stepped back, regarded her for less than an instant, and then kicked her roughly in the gut. She curled over her hurting stomach, the wind once again knocked out of her, only to be rewarded with another fierce kick.

"Oh, poor little _Jesster_!" On "Jesster" he kicked her again, his boot finding its way flawlessly between her arms to strike her stomach. "You've got nothing, _nothing_ you could gain by any of this _fighting_. Why don't you stop? Hm?" Another kick, this time connecting with her collar bone.

She cried out loud, trying to scramble away from him, but it only took him another step to attack her again. He licked his lips, eyes burning, and gave her another rough kick.

"Why don't you just _give up_? It's like you've got this..." he reached for the word, "consuming _urge_ to be in pain. Do you? Huh?"

Another kick. Jess laid still, not wanting more, feeling as though she would throw up all over anyway.

Breathing heavily, the Joker squatted beside her, grabbing her hair and forcing her to look him in the eye.

"You think you can just _do_ things like that? Against me?" He ran a shaky hand through his hair and wheezed a breathless chuckle. "Y'know, I think sometimes you forget who _I_ am. Hm?" He shook her by the hair and she whimpered. "_You_ forget _where_ you are and focus on all your tiny, little, _insignificant_ problems. I _get_ that you don't want to be here, Jesster. I _do_ understand. It's just funny…" He cracked his neck and brought the hand that wasn't fisted in her hair up to show her that it was now curled tightly around his knife. She watched his fingers tighten even more. "… How _much_ I don't care about what _you_ want."

He flashed a wide, mocking grin at her, more bearing his teeth than actually smiling, then let out an animalistic grunt and pushed her head away.

She yelped as the side of her face smacked the ground and, as pain from her skull and stomach washed over her, she felt hot tears slide down her cheeks.

The Joker was up and away from her by the time she got any sense back, banging around the room, ignoring the blubbering lump on the floor that was Jessica. She sat up slowly, her head spinning violently, and huddled against her knees, shaking with tears.

She didn't know where to go.

She could hear men out in the hall, noisily going off to their rooms, done with the party, and didn't want them to see her like this. They were liable to do anything if they saw the bruise forming along her cheekbone from where it had hit the ground. She couldn't put them in danger by showing them her wounds and risking them coming after the Joker.

But she couldn't stay here, either.

She _couldn't_.

Jess let out a loud sob and curled up into a tighter huddle.

"Oh, by the way, Jesster…" The Joker's voice came from a yard away, over by the window and Jess looked up.

She was startled to find he had a wet paper towel pressed against his temple, soaking up the blood from a cut there.

It took Jess a moment to realized that _she_ had done that. She'd cut him with her nails!

She felt a surge of pride, and then, suddenly, a sick, undesired concern for him, hope that she hadn't hurt him too bad.

"I was wrong," the Joker continued.

Jess frowned, flinching at a twinge of pain from her cheekbone.

"I said you were what kept the Lucky Twenty together, the binding force, the glue. But, you know, as I've watched you, I've realized that you have the opposite _effect_."

He looked out towards the window, smiling pensively.

"You _tear_ them _apart_," he whispered darkly.

Jess got up. She couldn't help it. She had to be closer, had to see his eyes so she could have an idea of what he was thinking.

"You _distract_ them," he continued. "You _mold_ them. Your opinions are their opinions."

He turned slowly to look at her, not seeming surprised that she had moved closer. Her hands went instinctively to cover her aching stomach as his eyes grazed over her.

"I'd like to _see_," the Joker whispered, "what happens when their loyalty towards _me_ and their loyalty towards _you_ get conflicted. _That_," he grinned, "would be a party worth going to."

"If you're so worried," Jess croaked, her throat torn apart by the crying, "why do insist on antagonizing me?"

The Joker erupted into high pitched laughter.

"Oh, I don't know, Jesster," he said, hardly able to speak for laughing. "Maybe I just can't get _close_ to people."

He exploded into another surge of giggles.

Jess shook her head in disgust and sank down onto the couch. Her anger at him, somehow, was gone now. She had no idea where to, but it was gone.

She hated it.

She hated him.

And yet, in some way, he was her weakness.

How was that possible?!

"This is so stupid," she muttered, hiding her face in her hands.

She didn't hear him move, but suddenly his hands were closed around her wrists and pulling her palms from where they'd been pressed against her eyelids.

"It _is_," he agreed, a smile twitching the corner of his mouth. "Not the phrase I'd _use_, but…" he shrugged. "No one said you don't get the point across."

Jess pulled her hands away from him roughly and shifted so that she was farther away, at the side of the couch. Unperturbed by this, he took a seat next to her and sighed in content. Jess growled and jumped up, turning to face him.

"What do you want?" she asked.

Once more, the Joker's eyebrows shot up.

"_Careful_, Jesster," he whispered.

"No," Jess said defiantly, knowing it might earn her more bruises. "What do you want with me?"

"I thought we'd already gone _through_ this…"

"No!" Jess felt another burst of hysteria mounting. That seemed to come easily tonight. "No! I _know _why you _brought_ me here. Because you had a whim. But tell me. What _exactly_ do you want with me _now_?"

The Joker looked away as though pondering this, scratching his jaw line thoughtfully.

"Hadn't really thought about it, Jesster," he said, catching her eyes again.

Jess's affronted look made him smile.

"Hm? Did you expect more?"

It only took Jess a second to think about this.

"No," she said. "No, I guess I didn't. I just…"

She shook her head. The hysteria was gone and tears were back.

This oscillation between the two emotions sucked.

"Today you told me you didn't want to kill me," Jess said, looking straight into the Joker's eyes.

"Uh huh…"

"But then you…" she gestured helplessly. "I don't know. You totally beat me up."

"Oh, now, see, Jesster," the Joker said, "_you_ started _that_ one."

Jess shook her head.

"I'm just confused."

"What's confusing?" the Joker asked, giggling. "I mean, _I_ don't get it. I want to keep you around. _You're_ the one over thinking things."

He gave her a significant, slightly disapproving look.

"Why do you want to keep me around?"

The Joker shrugged. His mood was flighty now, light. Different from the last hour but that wasn't surprising.

"Like I said, you're an interesting force of change. I like that. You create tension between the men. I like that. _And_…" He shrugged. "You can't resist _whatever _it is you see in me." He chuckled lowly. "I like _that_. And I think you're the only one here who _really_ gets it."

"Gets what?" Jess asked.

"That remains to be _seen_," the Joker chuckled. "You _never fail_ to make me _smile_, Jesster."

Jess sighed heavily, wanting to stomp her foot at how utterly _stupid_ he was!

She wasn't sure whether or not she believed all he said, but at least he'd given her an inch. He just hadn't answered the questions the way she'd hoped he would.

"Okay," she said. "Okay. Um…" She turned towards the door, wanting to leave. She was defeated. He knew that. "Good night, I guess. I'll see you tomorrow."

His low laugh stopped her halfway out the door.

"Do you _listen_ to yourself?" he asked, his voice torn in laughter.

His distinctive giggle filled her ears and she whirled on him, just wanting to surprise him enough to make him stop.

It didn't work.

The anger he saw in her eyes just made him laugh harder.

"The _dignity_ you try to maintain… It's so _fun_ to see you struggle."

"Why are you even talking to me?" Jess asked, her shoulders slumping. "Why can't I just go to bed? I'm tired."

"But I'm _not_, Jesster," the Joker said, his laugh fading. He tilted his chin down, looking at her darkly. "Come here."

Jess didn't move. But it could not be said she didn't want to run to him. She was torn between that and running away.

At her stillness, the Joker blinked slowly and stared at her.

Sighing, she closed the door again and paced towards him, all the way up to the couch until she stood just in front of him. He leaned forward, quietly humming a tune she didn't recognize, and nimbly popped the top button of her jeans.

Jess gasped and stepped away quickly, doing the button back again, her heart racing.

He _couldn't _be wanting _that_ now! Not after everything that had happened tonight.

The Joker raised his head to stare at her with darkened eyes, the pupils enlarged. Jess realized then that he was probably still very high.

Was he always? She could never be sure.

Whimsy and drugs looked very similar on the Joker.

"Jesster," he said, very quietly.

Jess tried to read his tone. It wasn't pleading, not at all, but nor was it a command.

It was almost as though he just liked saying it.

Jess stepped forward, just a foot or two shy of his reach, hesitating. This was the first time she'd ever wondered whether or not she _should_ do this, weighing the pros and cons of the situation. On one hand, denying him could end up in someone getting hurt… and it might not just be her. She thought worriedly of Billy.

On the other, she still felt the jabs of pain in her shoulder blade from when he'd thrown her against the corner.

Could she let herself trust him?

Had she _ever_ trusted him?

Jess took another step forward. As soon as she was within arms length, the Joker grabbed her hips and pulled her onto him, burying his face in her shirt. Jess stood there a moment, confused and a little wary. His hands clutched at her shirt and she felt him kissing her stomach, pulling her down slightly, working his way up towards her mouth.

He seemed… frantic. Unthinking.

Jess felt an unprecedented rush of pity for the man who, just a little while before, had been kicking her while she was down.

She knelt onto the couch, straddling his legs, and bent down to kiss him, his lips already warm and familiar. His hands were shaking but she doubted she was the one to induce that. His hands always shook and he had ingested who knows how many hits of cocaine tonight. Besides, why would _she_ make _him _shake?

Those hands slid around her, pulling her towards him roughly. He was never gentle but she would have been scared if he was. It would have meant something was wrong. He deepened the kiss, breathing heavily as his fingers worked to bunch up the fabric of her shirt and Jess unbuttoned his vest.

This was going fast but Jess was just high enough, still, not to care that much.

His hands found her hair and he pulled, giggling at her squirm of discomfort. She bit his lip, hoping to maybe pay him back, but the pain only seemed to make him want more of it and his fervor intensified. Jess found herself going just as fast and hard as he was, matching pace for pace.

Until, that is, a sudden thought had her laughing.

She pulled away from him, watching his eyes grow faintly curious. He licked his lips, sniffed nonchalantly, and waited. Jess couldn't stop giggling.

"Do you just…" she took a deep breath, unable to fight the laughter. "I mean, is this just kind of the regular thing? Do you do this with every girl you kidnap?"

The Joker sighed and let go of her hips, annoyed but resigned. He draped his arms over the back of the couch.

"So many _questions_ tonight, Jesster," he said.

"Do I get an answer to this one?"

He blinked slowly and looked up at her.

"Would you call this a _kidnapping_?" he asked, half grinning. He made a clicking noise with his tongue. "You _came_ here. Willingly."

Jess sighed hugely.

"Okay, well, how often do you do this?"

She was on the floor in a blink of an eye. The Joker had pushed her off his lap and stood up, stretching. It seemed the conversation was over.

Jess didn't press it, not sure how much she wanted to know.

"Okay," she muttered, and stood up.

The Joker was buttoning his vest back.

She supposed she didn't care how often he did this. At least she was relatively sure she was the only girl in his life right now. When would he have time to make nice with another one?

The fact that she even cared should have been deeply disturbing, but it seemed natural.

"Can I go to bed _now_?" she asked, a little too icily.

The Joker wasn't bothered by her tone, of course. He only smiled.

"You do know how to ruin the _mood_," he told her, but his voice wasn't hurt. She doubted she could ever really hurt him. She only angered or pleased him. That was sort of the dynamic of this relationship.

He could provoke every feeling possible in her, though.

It wasn't fair.

So, she realized, she'd spend every moment trying to do something besides please or anger him. Any other emotion.

"Wish I hadn't," she said softly, her voice taking on a tone far from usual, one she wasn't aware she was capable of. It was sultry, soft, seductive… Or, as sultry, soft and seductive as Jess could make it. Which is, to say, not very sultry, soft or seductive at all.

But it got his attention.

The Joker turned slightly to look at her, his face torn between extensively amused and intrigued. Jess stepped up to him, pressed her curves into his body for a lingering moment, and reached up to kiss him heatedly.

She could almost feel his shrug as he kissed her back, as if to say, "Why the hell not?"

Now, the point of all of this was to leave him wanting more, so Jess paid close attention to his hands and the way he held his body. When she was kissing him, she found it easy to anticipate his movements. So, just when he reached up to hold her around the waist and start to lead her back to the couch, Jess broke away.

"Okay," she said, stepping back from him, watching closely for any sign of emotion.

He didn't let anything register on his face, save for a look of boredom, but that was probably a good sign. She might even have gotten his mind racing.

That small victory would be enough to keep her smiling all night.

"I'll see you in the morning, J," she said, figuring that using the letter would be… more intimate?

Truly, Jess just liked the sound of it.

"Get up early, Jesster," the Joker ordered, sitting casually back on the couch.

"Right," Jess said with a smile. Maybe it was her imagination, but there was something odd about the way he moved and the way his mouth was set. "Sounds like we've got a funeral to go to."

Jess left the room, listening for sounds of humming but hearing none. Out in the hall, she celebrated silently.

Judging by the few and extremely subtle hints, Jess was pretty sure she'd _totally_ gotten to him.


	21. Chapter 21

**Hey guyzzzz!!!**

**Wow. So, I love this chapter. I LOVE it. It is my favorite thing I have ever written. If you don't, REVIEW! If you do, REVIEW!**

**In any case... REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

**I didn't give you songs last time, so here are three...**

**No Fear- The Rasmus**

**City of Delusion- Muse**

**Ten Speed (Of God's Blood and Burial)- Coheed and Cambria**

**It's a bit of a cliffy at the end, but you can deal. :)**

* * *

A loud banging woke Jess, and when Blake threw open the door and screamed "Good morning, sunshine!" as loud as he could, she rolled over onto her stomach and groaned.

Laughing, Blake and Laurence strolled brazenly into her room and ripped away her covers. She curled up, oddly cold and extremely tired, with a headache to boot. Her whole body ached and she couldn't remember why.

Damn those pills.

"Holy shit, Jesster," Blake said in wonder when he caught sight of her back, hardly concealed in a tank top.

Groggily, Jess reached around to feel her pained shoulder blade, sort of forming a picture in her head of being thrown against a wall. She brushed along her skin, feeling what had to be dried blood, the beginnings of a scab, and then rolled over.

Laurence was already halfway out the door.

"I'll get Billy," he said.

Before Jess could protest, he was gone.

Blake, swallowing any anger or disgust he might have felt, sat calmly at the foot of her cot while she sat up, bringing her knees to her chest. She always seemed to ruin their good moods…

"Is Billy mad at me?" Jess asked, knowing he might be for one reason or another.

She knew he had kissed her because it had caused such a ruckus last night. She simply didn't remember him doing so.

"I don't think so," Blake replied quietly, bringing a hand to her cheek bone, concern in his eyes.

Jess felt her cheek, testing the flesh slightly and feeling that it was a little tender, bruised.

"Is is swollen?" she asked.

Blake shook his head with a wolfish grin.

"Your pretty face is all intact, my dear. The bruise is just a little more yellow than the rest of you."

Jess rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Well, that's a relief," she said. "How would I have been able to go out with all of you if my face had been swollen?"

"Right," Blake said, laughing. "We need you. Moral support and all that."

Jess grinned, leaning into his shoulder. It amazed her that, even after all the drama she caused and all the rejections she offered, these guys were still with her one hundred percent. It was more than she deserved.

"Did _he_ do this to you?" Blake asked, already knowing the answer as he ran a finger along the cut on her shoulder blade.

Jess nodded.

"Who else would it be?"

"What pissed him off this time?"

She shrugged.

"I don't really know," she said. "I think he insulted me so I tried to hit him. And then…" She shrugged. "I was on the ground before I knew it, of course, and being kicked like a dog." Blake frowned, his face somehow passive as though he was torn between being angry with the Joker and being completely unsurprised. "I was stupid," Jess went on. "I know I won't do it again."

Blake nodded.

"That's probably good…"

"Jess!"

Jess's eyes snapped up to Billy, standing in the doorway, a shocked, horrified expression on his face. Jesus. She must really have looked like shit.

Laurence was behind him, a wet paper towel and bandages in each hand.

"Morning, Billy," Jess said, trying to be cheerful.

He immediately came forward, followed closely by Laurence, and sat beside her, taking a paper towel and gently pressing it to her back to wipe the dried blood away. She did what she could not to flinch; she didn't want him to be even more worried for her than he already was.

"You okay, Jess?" Billy asked softly, the crease between his eyebrows not even going away when she gave him a wide, brave smile.

"I'm fine," she said. "He's not mad at me this morning, so I should be safe for the day. I just need to be more careful."

Billy pulled back, finding her eyes, his look troubled.

"I don't want you near him," he said. "Not if he's going to do shit like this to you."

"Afraid there's little that can be done about that," Blake said. "The boss is counting her in today. He sent me to wake her up."

"Listen," Jess grabbed Billy's hands and stopped him from bandaging her back. "I'll be fine, okay? I promise. I promise _you_ and if I broke any promise I made to _you_ I'd never be able to forgive myself. Okay? I'll stay out of trouble and out of the way. I promise." She looked down to the ground. "It's only going to be more trouble than it's worth if I refuse to go."

Billy, looking only slightly mollified, sighed but nodded. Jess slid out of bed, heading bouncily towards the door, a grin plastered on her face to show them that she wasn't nearly as scared as she felt. Every time they had a job there were jitters of course, but after last night--from which the memories were slowly returning--it seemed especially bad.

Memory of the Joker's face as he stared at her angrily was enough to make her want to crawl back into bed, and truth be told she wasn't positive that he wasn't mad at her anymore. But she smiled through it, as she'd learned to do, and turned around to kiss Billy lightly on the cheek.

"Thanks for looking out for me," she said, patting his injured arm softly. "I wish you could come with us."

He shook his head.

"I'm glad I can't," he said, his crooked old grin returning a little. Jess was relieved to see it. "This arm has been a blessing."

"Thank the Batman," Blake laughed, standing up. "Tell him your bone allows you to sit on your ass at home base all day and watch the game while the rest of us are out working."

"I will," Billy replied with a grin, "just as soon as I see him again. I'll thank him. I might even return the favor."

* * *

Jess showered and the warm water felt absurdly good against her cold skin. She was unpleasantly surprised at the amount of blood she watched swirling down the drain, but a quick check in the mirror once she'd finished washing told her that her wound was no longer freshly bleeding. She smiled at it, proud of her body for healing so quickly, and touched her cheekbone gingerly. The bruise there was a little worse than Blake had made it out to be, but it could be easily covered up with makeup and she did so, smearing first lotion, then foundation over the tender skin.

She did her makeup as she had done the last two times: reddish purple lips, dark black eyeliner, and a little swirl under one eye.

Letting her hair loose, Jess jogged back to her room, wrapped in a robe, and pulled on her costume dress, which somehow already felt familiar and comforting, despite it being too tight and too short. She grabbed her top hat on the way out the door.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Powers demanded as soon as she stepped into the alleyway where they'd hidden the vans. Jess frowned, confused. "We're supposed to be undercover, Jesster. Even the boss is hiding who he is. You wanna get this cover blown?"

Jess raised her eyebrows, affronted, and flipping him off, turned back to go change. Powers grabbed her rudely gesturing hand and pulled her back to him.

"No time," he said, bending her finger back uncomfortably until she'd shaken out of his grasp. "Leave the hat and just put this on."

He handed her a black woolen pull over sweater.

"Wipe off the swirly bit under your eye, too. Otherwise you're fine."

Grasping the sweater tightly, Jess glared at him as he walked away, thinking what a hard ass he was. No one had told her she wasn't supposed to dress up. There was no reason he needed to be such a dick.

She pulled the sweater over her head. It was big on her but it was warm. The neck was way stretched out and flopped over her shoulder and the sleeves hung past her hands. With the short dress underneath, the look was a bit eighties but infinitely more average than the dress alone. She ran to the nearest van and used its window as a mirror to wipe off some of the excessive eyeliner, then threw the hat back into the theater. The men were mostly loaded into the cars already so Jess, rushing, didn't have time to figure out where the Joker was. She hadn't seen him all morning.

She hopped into the van and closed the doors quickly behind her. In a matter of minutes, they were off.

* * *

The parade was only just being set up when they arrived, but there were plenty of people milling around to blend into. They stashed the vans in an alleyway and split up, Blake pulling Jess off in an arbitrary direction before she could start to look for the Joker.

"We're in charge of our own cop," Blake whispered as they walked briskly down the sidewalk, the cool morning air whipping through Jess's hair.

She took a moment to appreciate the tall, glass sided buildings and far away sounds of cars along busy thoroughfares, then turned to look questioningly at Blake. Without missing a beat, he answered her unasked question.

"We're each replacing a cop in the Honor Guard. Not all of them but most of them. By the time they might notice, we'll already be in the parade and, besides, Powers says they probably just chose the shooters this morning. The men won't even know the difference. So, I have to find my guy, grab him, and somehow get him to White's apartment."

"I thought White came from Arkham," Jess said, tripping over a crack in the sidewalk and stumbling ungracefully. Blake chuckled at her.

"He still rents out that space," he said. "He and Schiff haven't been staying in the theater, thank God. I guess they camp out there."

"So, how do we know the Honor Guard from the rest of them?"

This was a good question, she thought. There were a ton of police officers and detectives and other city officials on Parkside Avenue this morning, all preparing for the parade in an hour. There were also a great number of men in kilts, each carrying a bagpipe. At the end of the boulevard, where the street met City Hall, they had arranged an enormous platform and podium, at which Jess assumed the mayor would be delivering Loeb's eulogy.

A sudden flutter of butterflies hit her stomach. That place might very well be where she would see a man die today.

"The Honor Guard all have a certain uniform on," Blake said, pulling Jess suddenly around a corner, hiding from someone.

He pushed her against a wall, pressed a finger to his lips, and peeked around the corner to the street.

"There's one now," he whispered, pushing her farther back.

She crouched in the shadow of the building and watched as Blake timed his movements then, suddenly, leapt forward out of sight. After barely a second, he was back, dragging a silent, complacent man in a blue uniform who held his hands up due to the revolver Blake had pressed against his spine. The cop was plainly terrified.

"Keep quiet or you're meat," Blake whispered into his ear, dragging him backwards and then turning him around, forcing him against a wall, and frisking him, checking for any concealed weapons besides his large rifle, which he tossed to Jess. After finding none, he began to lead the man quickly down the street, keeping out of sight of anyone, taking back ways and alleys to a large apartment building down the way. He only paused to take a role of duct tape from his coat pocket and press a piece firmly against the man's mouth, then blindfold him with what Jess was pretty sure used to be one of her black socks.

They entered the building with absolutely no hiccups along the way, almost too easily, and headed down the stark white halls to the elevator.

"What's the time?" Blake demanded, sweat glistening on his brow as he pushed the cop into the lift. Craning her neck, Jess stole a glance at the digital watch around his wrist.

"8:21," she told him.

He smiled.

"Boss told us to be there before 8:30," he said. "We're perfect, kiddo."

The Honor Guard member whimpered pitifully. Jess hoped the Joker wouldn't kill him.

They arrived at a door with a covered window marked 1502 in plain black numbers. Motioning for Jess to open the door, Blake shoved the officer in roughly, eliciting a small gasp of fear from the man. Jess followed behind them, still clutching the man's rifle in her sweaty palms, growing ever more nervous as time went by.

The apartment was a studio space, bare and cold, with exposed support beams reaching up to the ceiling. Against the beam at the dead center of the room were three men, all tied at the wrists and ankles and gagged and blindfolded. They sat passively, rightly assuming they were being held at gunpoint by White and Schiff, already standing in the room.

The other man who had gotten his cop so far went by the name of Peter, an ex drug dealer and robber. He looked very nervous at being alone in the room with White and Schiff and when he saw Blake, a wide smile of relief lit up his face.

Smiling back, Blake told his cop to stand still and started to undress him quickly, throwing his clothes aside and pocketing his badge.

Soon, left in no more than a wife-beater and boxers, plus the blindfold and gag, the man began to shiver and make small noises of fear. Jess felt a little bad for him, but he wasn't being killed or anything… she hoped. He could deal.

"Wanna try your luck, kid?" Blake asked, tossing her the duct tape suddenly.

Jess caught it and frowned, not sure what he wanted.

"So, tie him up," Blake said, as though that were obviously what one would normally do in such a situation.

He immediately forced the man's hands behind his back, keeping his gun pressed against his neck to cut down on struggle. Jess tugged at the tape and felt satisfied when a long piece came off in her hands. She started to wind it around their captive's wrists, tight so that he couldn't escape, feeling a sudden rush of giddy anticipation.

She was _enjoying_ this, she realized, and even knowing how sick that was didn't make her want to stop.

She thought back on every negative thing a man like this had done to her in her life--the cop that had given her her first ticket and no pity, the officer who hadn't even laughed at a joke she'd told him in freshman year, the one who had stared at her disapprovingly when she'd walked down the street in eighth grade smoking a cigarette with her friend, the one who'd made her cry when she was in kindergarten…

Cops were so intimidating and a lot of them knew it and used it. A lot of them loved that power play and wouldn't even crack a smile or show any kind of human emotion.

Jess hated cops.

This guy? This guy was a cop.

She pictured the smile he would have on his face as he gave a ticket to some little old lady and pulled tight, sealing his binding and making him flinch.

Getting the gist of the situation, Jess pushed him down to the ground, feeling a sick rush of sadistic power that a little thing like her could push around a big strong man, especially a cop.

It felt good, like nothing else she'd ever known, and no guilt was there to mar the pleasure of being bad. She wasn't hurting or killing him. He had it coming, she was sure.

Everyone had something like this coming.

For all she knew, this guy could be a serial rapist.

"How do you feel now, officer?" she asked sweetly, pulling his ankles together and starting to wind a length of duct tape around them. "Does it feel good to be helpless like this? Hmm?" She ripped the tape off the role and patted it down, running her fingers up his bare leg and tapping his knee. "Let's hope you stop making other people feel the way you do from now on." He whimpered and she raised her voice. "That goes for all of you."

She couldn't be positive he'd ever made anyone feel like that, but she was pretty sure he had. Everyone had. She had. But she felt justified somehow, and teaching him a lesson while enjoying her own evilness was kind of nice.

Really nice, actually.

She loved being a part of this. That feeling she'd had during her first criminal outing just kept growing.

Every time she'd done something bad at home, there was guilt or consequence to deal with.

Here there was none of that. Hell, this wasn't even her world. She felt more free than she ever had.

Maybe the Joker was right. Liberator indeed.

She was distracted from her thoughts when the door opened behind her and at least three more men were shoved in with little groans.

She stood up, patting her cop on the top of the head, and turned towards the entrance where Laurence, Powers and Drew were stripping their hostages for uniforms. Blake was already dressed, the suit fitting badly on his tall frame.

"Playing with your toys, Jesster?" Drew asked, motioning to the men against the beam, his smile lessening the hideousness of his words.

Her toys? Not so much. Just… targets of any anger she had towards humankind.

"They make ugly dolls," she replied, faux pouting.

The men laughed. Jess loved how easily they laughed at anything she did that they considered cute. Except for Schiff and White, of course. White was staring off into space, as usual, and Schiff was regarding her warily but with interest, his eyes darting down to her ass in a way that made her stomach turn.

"Oh, you got here before me. I'm so _pleased_."

The familiar voice incited in Jess a reaction she wished she didn't feel: not one of horror but of excitement. She turned towards him as he came through the door with an officer of his own, and watched almost in admiration as his painted face took on a look of giddy anticipation.

"Let's see… one, two, three, four, five, six… and I make seven. Where's the _last_ of you?" he asked.

"I'm here!"

Out of breath and anxious, in jogged Austin, dragging a blindfolded, gagged Honor Guard member. The Joker regarded him for a moment in silence, only blinking when he muttered sorry and walked past him to start stripping his officer.

The Joker was treating his own cop with unprecedented cruelty and the men took note of this, suddenly more brutal with their own catches, growling at them to "shut the hell up and take your jacket off."

"Almost got caught," Austin whispered to Blake, wiping a fleck of sweat off his brow and glancing uneasily towards where the Joker was now busy undressing his catch. "On the street. This fucker almost yelled for help."

He slapped the side of his hostage's head and pushed him down to the ground.

Jess was turning away from Austin as he started to undress so he could change when a sudden thought burst into her head.

Spinning on her heel, she found the Joker again, his purple vest lolling open, in the process of unbuttoning his slacks, and smiled to herself as she watched him, wondering what he looked like under those yards of purple and green fabric…

He saw her watching.

He always noticed her exactly when she didn't want him to and as soon as their eyes met, he started to pull off his vest. Jess had no choice but to turn away, blushing. He was smiling in a way that made her think he knew exactly why she was looking in his direction and she turned her back on him even more firmly.

Whatever.

It was sick and voyeuristic anyway, like reading a Stephanie Meyer novel.

The thought of watching the Joker take his clothes off should _not_ have been as appealing as it was, so in a sort of decisive self-denial, Jess walked to the window to look out at the street below.

* * *

The men were dressed and ready in a matter of twenty minutes.

The Joker had disappeared into one of the back rooms at one point and, after a while, came back with a bare face: not a single speck of makeup.

Jess loved to look at him like this.

His skin color was so interesting. She loved it. It was as if a naturally tan (bronzed was the first word that came to her mind but she refused to liken him to anything close to a god… though she supposed Loki worked…) person had stayed inside for too long and his rich pigmentation started to fade away until the color walked the narrow line between ghost white and beach dark. Distinctive.

His scars only added to his appeal now. Jess felt no revulsion upon looking at them. They just made him more unique. And his green hair was knotted back under the uniform hat, hidden from view, only the dirty blond roots showing now.

Apart from his scars and the dark circles beneath his eyes--Jess was starting to conclude that he must be an insomniac--he looked almost normal in that uniform and yet still so… uncommon.

She wanted to kiss him, she found.

This relationship with him--if you could call it that--was different from anything she'd experienced. The fact that she couldn't easily go up to him and show her affection was odd, both because she wasn't used to having to hide it from those around her and because she wasn't used to not being sure whether or not the person who was the closest thing she had to a boyfriend would actually want her to touch him.

So she kept her distance and waited for him to approach. She wondered if that would ever affect his self-confidence.

Probably not.

He read her too well. He knew she wanted him… he had practically told her so, with that "you can't resist whatever it is you see in me" comment.

Did he get some pleasure out of that? He was such a masochist, it was hard to be sure. Perhaps he liked it more when she tried to push him away.

Ineffective, of course; the man was darkly irresistible.

As the group started to file out the door, Jess found herself subconsciously drawn to the Joker's side, sticking as close to him as she could for no apparent reason. She hoped he wouldn't notice and didn't make eye contact with him until she heard him laugh quietly and felt him pat the top of her head. She glanced up to glare at him and his eyes told her that he knew exactly what she was doing, so she started to fall behind him, back to where Blake walked with Drew.

His fingers closed around her upper arm in an instant and he pulled her back to him.

"Excited for the parade, Jesster?" he asked, an eager glint in his eye.

Jess grinned and nodded.

"Where exactly do I go, though?" she asked, her question raising itself in her head for the first time.

"Stay _close_," the Joker said. "Blend into the _crowd_." He glanced at her, amused. "If possible…" Jess rolled her eyes. "You'll_ know_ when to get back to the vans."

"What if I lose you guys?"

"Just _don't_, Jesster." He took a sharp corner, dragging Jess out of metal door and into the sunlight on Parkside Avenue.

The men started to split up wordlessly, going off in different directions. Jess could hear the bagpipes warming up--if that was what you could call the terrible racket from down the street--and she felt sure the parade was almost ready to begin.

Once all of the men had walked off, Jess, assuming it was time to find a good viewpoint, pulled away from the Joker and started down the street. It hadn't occurred to her that he had more to say, but when she felt him grab her wrist and pull her roughly back to him, she wasn't too surprised.

"What?" she asked as he turned her to face him, their bodies coming close to collision with the movement.

"No good _byes_? No fair thee _wells_? No tears or waves?" The Joker clicked his tongue. "Not very _polite_ of you."

Jess tried not to let herself get annoyed. That would only catalyze any conflict with him. She wanted this day to go off without a hitch and she felt sure he'd want to ruin it somehow.

"Good bye," she replied coldly, trying to pull away again.

He giggled, his hand still vice like around her wrist, and rocked back and forth on his heels.

Jess stared at his bare face, surprised with every look to find him so human. She still couldn't be sure whether it detracted from his attraction or added to it.

God, that was so sick, that she might have found the makeup more sexy. But, like this, he was darker somehow.

The makeup was the light, whimsical, dangerous, brutal and laughing. Mania.

The face beneath was the dark, mysterious, angry, tortured and crying. Dementia.

He was caught between the two worlds of madness, torn apart even from himself, unsure where he belonged and not wanting to belong anyway.

"Now, now, now _Jesster_," the Joker intoned. "You know me better than _that_."

"Do I?" Jess asked, watching his face inch closer, stealing herself, trying not to be eager to kiss him. "I'm pretty sure I don't. I'm pretty sure I have no _idea_ who the hell you are."

"Not my fault, Jesster. You oughta be more _observant_." He ended on the harsh sound of the "T" and Jess watched his eyes, finding a sign of impatience and irritation.

What did he want? Was he annoyed that she hadn't jumped him yet?

That thought sent shivers of pleasure coursing down her spine. Sticking it to the Joker was as dangerous and exhilarating as sticking it to Satan.

"Sorry," she said, still feigning innocence. He knew it, too. "Was there something else you wanted, then? We're going to be late."

The Joker's eyes immediately flicked down the street. Sure enough, people were lining up to start the parade and the entire avenue was packed with police officers, mourners, and the occasional horse or two.

The Joker giggled, thrilled to see this, and set excited eyes back on Jessica.

"So we don't have much time then," he said.

He was bending down to kiss her when a sudden shout from someone in the crowd on Parkside found its way over the din.

"Hey! Hey you!"

The Joker turned curiously, his arms still wrapped around Jess, lowering his head so his face was hidden in shadow from the man standing at the end of the block that connected Parkside from the street they were on.

"Yeah! You! Stop romancing. You have work to do!"

The Joker tilted his head at the officer, obviously someone of a higher rank. Jess felt him stiffen, felt his fingers twitch against her waist, wishing he could reach for his little knife.

Jess reached down and squeezed his hand comfortingly.

He jerked away from her suddenly, turning to stare at her, obviously surprised by her move to soothe him. She cleared her throat.

"You should probably go," she said.

"Get over to your fucking position, officer!" the irate man yelled.

Jess turned to glare at him.

"One minute, I'm coming!" the Joker yelled, lowering his voice so that it was all but unrecognizable.

Jess giggled and the official stalked off, out to yell at more people who weren't where they needed to be.

"I'll see you after the show, Jesster," the Joker told her, leaning down again.

Jess, somehow touched and pitying of his reaction to her hand on his, as though he'd never experienced it before, reached up and gave him a kiss she hoped was sweet. Her lips lingered slowly on her but there was no sexuality. Only affection.

He didn't like _that_, either. After a moment, he pulled away and regarded her for a moment as though she was simply puzzling.

"Okay, so, listen," he said after a moment, the pause obviously needed to collect his thoughts, "when Garcia is dead, react. Be a little…" he toyed with the invisible word in the air, "uh, _actress_. And run to the vans."

Jess nodded and he started to turn, ready to be off down the street.

"Hey, wait, J," she called.

He stopped, his shoulder hunched in that unmistakable way and turned his head. Jess was surprised he wasn't recognized everywhere he went. She could recognize him just by looking at his shoulder blades.

He had an incredible back…

Okay, that's enough. She had a question.

"Why am I here?"

His answer was immediate. Jess wondered if he had a script for life.

"To _watch_," he said. "And… to _enjoy_."

And then he was gone, blending into the crowd gathered for Loeb's funeral. For such a disliked guy, Loeb sure had a lot of friends…

Jess could scarcely help wanting to sprint after the Joker and kiss him again, feel him hold her. She missed him as soon as he left, she realized.

Was this some kind of sick dependency thing? Was it, like, Stockholm Syndrome?

If she had it, at least she knew she did. It didn't take away the feeling of affection she had for him, regardless of how cruel he was.

Maybe she was masochistic, too.

And then the memory of how good it felt when she pushed the cop to the ground returned and Jess looked down at her pale hands.

No. Sadist.

Definitely a sadist.

Was that why she and the Joker got along?

She loved dishing it out and he loved taking it, no matter how angry he got. Jess thought he might just be addicted to the rush of emotion, the passion, the adrenaline.

Sadism was too easy for him, she realized. He liked to play and make himself a player. He loved being vulnerable but making others fear him. He loved being insulted, abused, denied and fucked with because then he could get even or he could kill or he could just laugh and love it. It was probably etched into him, a habit learned from childhood.

The man was bad for her.

Jess shook her head, wondering why she didn't just run to Wayne manor and ask for help. She was alone on the street.

Oh my God.

She was _alone_.

In the open.

She could escape right now!

_Go_, a voice urged, _Just go. Run and leave this all behind. Forget him. Maybe you can shack up with Batman or something_.

But her feet didn't move, didn't even twitch.

She didn't remember when she'd switched sides. Maybe it was the second time he'd kissed her. Maybe it was the first. Maybe it was when Billy's arm had gotten broken. Maybe it hadn't been until right now.

Whenever the change had occurred, it had and she was altered, deeply.

She was on the Joker's side, now, her depth of loyalty so profound it was hard to remember when she'd ever been rooting for Batman. She'd said she hadn't understood the Lucky Twenty when they started to help him. Now she did. She didn't know why, but she did.

She couldn't understand her motives. Maybe she had none. She sure as hell couldn't think of any. But she was driven to be on this side.

She was on the Joker's side!

Knowing that, realizing that, gave her freedom like she'd never experienced. Suddenly she wanted to jump and scream and fight and make love, all at the same time.

She was a bad guy! A villain!

So why didn't she feel wrong?!

Because she felt _right_.

Not wanting to examine the reason behind this much farther, only content with the ecstasy and freedom of the moment, Jess started to walked down the street, looking for a place to watch the festivities. She was looking forward to this suddenly, more than she could remember looking forward to anything before.

She must have been walking tall and confidently, because she attracted a lot of interested attention from men as she weaved through the crowd.

She found herself giving them small, brave, sexy smiles.

Smiles that said, "Come here. I'll show you what I can do."

Oh yes.

She could do this villainess thing quite nicely.


	22. Chapter 22

**Hey guys! Thanks for putting up with my slow. I really apologize. This chap was a tough one to write! I don't know why, either. I tried to stay as true to the movie as I could, which will be a running theme throughout the rest of this story. It was a painstaking process.**

**The parade and the mayor's speech belong heart and soul to the Nolans. I own none of it, besides Jess and the Lucky Twenty.**

**Enjoy! Like always, REVIEW!! Spend some time on me, I'll spend some time on this.**

* * *

It wasn't difficult to secure a roadside position close to the podium. No one seemed to want to argue today--the mood was incredibly solemn; so much so Jess almost laughed out loud--and giving a charming smile to a young man did wonders.

Jess realized that she had to learn how to use this femininity thing. Even though she certainly didn't consider herself a sexy person, she was coming to recognize that it wasn't difficult to make others believe you were, not if you acted like you believed it too.

Anything you do with confidence, people pay attention to. They take it seriously. Even if the action is completely ludicrous. Life lesson #867.

Jess was about forty feet from the edge of the podium and she had just settled into position when a loud wave of bagpipe music started and the parade began.

Immediately, she was surrounded by clicking cameras and watched as no less than five or six news teams started up, ready to document this event.

"…these cops have to be wondering if the Joker will make good on his threat in the obituary column of Gotham Times to kill the mayor."

Jess spun around at the sound of the Joker's name, interested in who this little story belonged to, and saw a man she recognized vaguely from the ARG and online. Engel or something, a glorified reporter with his own news show. She stared at him with interest until she was distracted by the herd of people walking past, horses leading the charge.

The mayor was there, short and unassuming, his black hair greased back, wearing a long, solemn trench coat. Beside him was a woman Jess recognized from the first movie as the cop Ramirez and, to his right, walked a man with blond hair and a strikingly strong jaw line.

Jess froze, her mouth wide open, somewhere between star struck and disbelieving, just as she had felt when she first saw Batman. This guy, as every website had proclaimed before she ever knew that such a place as Gotham truly existed, was none other than _the_ Harvey Dent, new D.A. of Gotham.

Jess had to wonder if the Nolan brothers were going to fulfill Dent's destiny as Two-Face or if that story line would be left out.

She stepped off the curb, into the street, to try to get a better view of him, but he had walked on, completely oblivious of the girl who would have loved to talk to him.

Dent was an important player here.

The Joker wanted him dead for one reason or another and that chick Batman had thrown himself out of the window for was dating him.

Jess closed her eyes, trying to remember anything she had heard about Dent or his politics--beside his hideous slogan "I believe in Harvey Dent"--but drawing a blank.

Looking back to the street, Jess was surprised to find that pretty much every single police officer in Gotham was dressed to the nines and out here today to respect the memory of their fallen leader. The wide thoroughfare was covered end to end in dark blue uniforms, and they all wore melancholy expressions, as befit a funeral, of course. Jess tried to find the Honor Guard among them, but the parade passing now was so thick she could scarcely discern one face from another, much less pick out one of the eight men she knew here today.

"Excuse me, miss," someone said in a low, gentle voice.

Jess looked up quickly, surprised out of her locating, and into the face of a man of medium height and build with the kindest blue eyes she'd ever seen, hidden behind square rimmed glasses. His pale brown hair was flecked with grey and he had a mustache. To Jess he seemed disturbingly familiar, so she assumed he was another important player, though she couldn't quite place him. In one tense hand, he carried a walkie talkie and the corners of his mouth were drawn. He was stressed, always glancing up to something in the windows of the buildings around them.

Jess assumed it was worry about a sniper. Like the Joker would ever do something so mundane.

These people didn't understand him.

Yet.

"Yes, officer?" she asked in her sweetest voice.

The man graced her with a tight smile but his eyes didn't travel away from hers. He was looking for something there, a sign of trust or something. Perhaps he saw she recognized him.

"You'll have to move back onto the curb now," he said lowly, after drawing a slow breath.

She liked his voice. It was hushed but firm and gentle.

He was a father figure, this one. He could be anyone's father figure. He was born for it.

"The police are a little nervous about spectator involvement."

"Why?" Jess faked dumb, wanting to keep him here and figure out who he was.

He frowned.

"Do you watch a lot of news?" he asked.

"No," Jess said truthfully.

He sighed. Jess supposed it was his duty to inform the public about scary stuff going down.

"I'm Jim Gordan, head of Major Crimes," he introduced himself.

Oh! So that's where Jess had seen him! James Gordan, the incorruptible. He'd been in _Batman Begins_, too.

"Nice to meet you," Jess said. "I'm Jess."

"Jess," he repeated, then took a little breath and looked around, on alert for any trouble. "There's been a threat against our mayor. I'm just here to make sure everything goes okay. If you're nervous in any way, I suggest you go home. I actually suggest you go home in any case."

"I'm not nervous," Jess said, making eye contact, her eyes unwavering.

He frowned a little and leaned back, not liking what he saw there.

"Thanks, though. I hope everything goes smoothly."

Gordan nodded, managed another tight smile, and started to walk away, his walkie talkie immediately up to his mouth again.

"Mr. Gordon?" Jess called him back.

He stopped and turned around, a question in his eyes.

"Yes?"

Jess' breath caught and she almost forgot what she had been about to say. He had melancholy eyes and he looked desperate for some sort of aid and, for a moment, they softened her.

The moment passed. She glanced at his uniform, realized he was a cop, and stiffened.

"What's the threat? Is it that Joker guy?" She didn't know why she was asking him this. She supposed she wanted to see his reaction, wanted to add another brick to the wall that was Gotham, still solidifying itself as reality in her mind.

At the sound of the Joker's name, Jim Gordon turned back around fully and marched up to Jess, his worried eyes still scanning the buildings around them.

"I don't want you to worry about that," he said, his voice soothing. Jess made a note to try to impersonate him next time she was attempting to calm someone. "You just keep yourself out of trouble, okay?"

Jess nodded, impressed. He was already concerned for _her_.

As she watched him leave, she thought how exhausting it must be to always be looking out for everyone else.

* * *

It didn't take long for everyone to reach their positions. Police officers, lined from curb to curb and all the way down the avenue, stood soberly in long columns while the mayor, Dent, Dent's girlfriend (Jess had to admit she felt a pang of hatred towards the woman the Joker had called "beautiful." But she smiled when she remembered how he'd tossed her out that window), Ramirez, a man Jess recognized as Detective Wuertz, and her new friend Jim Gordan all mounted the large stage and sat in seats behind the podium. A flag was raised and people said the pledge of allegiance.

Then, the mayor stood up to speak.

Jess's heart started to pound as she looked around for the Honor Guard to make sure everything was going according to plan.

She trusted her men but she was still anxious and her eyes skimmed too hurriedly over a group of twelve right in front of the stage area, aligned in columns facing each other. She turned her attention back to them, trying to study the faces of each of the men there but she was far away from them and people were in her way.

It wasn't until she caught the eye of one of them--she recognized him as Keith--and he winked that she relaxed slightly. Her fingers still bunched against the fabric of her sleeves in apprehension.

What if the shooting didn't go according to plan? What if they got caught?!

"Commissioner Loeb dedicated his life to law enforcement and to the protection of his community."

The statement from the mayor snapped Jess out of her worries and she looked back to the podium he stood behind. He was delivering his eulogy now. The show of arms in respect for Loeb should be coming soon.

"I remember when I first took office and I asked if he wanted to stay on as commissioner and he said he would, provided I kept my politics out of his office. Clearly he was not a man who minced words. Nor should he have been."

Jess's attention was dwindling. By Garcia's third sentence she was bored and started to look around, finding the crowd of gloomy watchers more entertaining than anything Garcia said.

"A number of policies that he enacted as commissioner were unpopular, policies that flooded my office with angry calls and letters."

Jess found Jim Gordan again, and noticed he looked extremely anxious, forever glancing up at the windows of the buildings. She turned around and looked up as well, seeing a tall cop with a heavy gun staked out on a high fire escape.

It felt like her temperature plummeted suddenly and Jess started to shake as a cold wash of dread swept over her.

They had sentinels from above. They could pick off the Twenty, or the Joker, like scabs.

She looked desperately to the Honor Guard but none of them glanced her way and she couldn't very well risk everything by trying to warn them.

Suddenly, the Joker's calm, hissing voice was in her head.

"Now no fuss, Jesster," it said, consoling her despite being a product of her imagination, because this was what she knew was exactly what he _would_ say. "It's _all just_ peachy."

Jess took a deep breath and forced herself to relax.

"And as we recognize the sacrifice of this man…" Garcia was still talking. Wasn't it time to shoot him yet?!? "We must remember that vigilance is the price of safety."

"Stand by!"

One of the members of the Honor Guard, the man that had told the Joker to get to his position earlier, started barking orders.

Jess sighed, her heart pumping. Finally!

"Honor guard! Attention!"

The men stiffened with their weapons.

"Port arms!"

They brought the guns up and placed a finger on the trigger.

"Ready! Aim!"

The men aimed into the air above each other's heads.

"Fire!"

Scattered shots hit the air and Jess swung to look at Garcia, still standing fine on the platform.

"Come on," she whispered, biting her lower lip so hard she started to bleed. "Just _do_ it." The suspense was absolutely killing her.

"Ready! Aim!" Maybe this was the time… "Fire!"

No dead mayor, but something strange happened. The shots came from the Honor Guard, yes, but there were also shots from above her. Jess craned her neck up, trying to find the source but seeing nothing.

"Ready! Aim!"

This had better be the one. She didn't think she could take another second of this.

Suddenly, eight of the twelve Honor Guards swung around in place and aimed directly for Garcia. In a split second, Gordon was up and throwing himself over the mayor, bringing him to the ground. A bullet hit Gordon square in the back, the spatter of blood visible even from where she stood, and he fell to the stage, unconscious or dead.

What?

WHAT?!?!

This wasn't supposed to happen! Gordon wasn't supposed to die!

Jess stood frozen, horrified by this in a way she hadn't expected. She'd talked to the man for all but twelve seconds but she felt somehow connected with his death, mourning him without even knowing him. He was so good.

Pandemonium had instantly erupted of course. People started to scream and all of the Honor Guard dropped their weapons to the ground, hunched over, and began to run off in different directions.

People pushed past her, almost knocking her to the ground, until Jess pulled herself out of her state of shock, stole one last look at the podium, and decided to try to find the vans, wiping tears from her eyes. She couldn't cry, not now, despite being terrified for everyone in the Twenty and scared that Gordon would die. She had to be strong now.

That was what being a villain was all about, right?

She started to run, blending in with the crowd but suddenly finding herself hopelessly disoriented, confused. People ran past her to the left and right, in arbitrary directions, some yelling. The buildings all looked similar and for the life of her she couldn't remember which street the vans were on.

She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk looking around desperately, trying to find one of the Twenty but knowing she wouldn't due to their uniforms which looked the same as everyone else's. A man pushed her to the side, his eyes panicked. Should Jess have been panicking too? The threat here was the Joker but what if the police somehow recognized her?

She stumbled a few steps forward, turned around to try to get her bearings, and attempted to cross the street between the flow of police men, all running for cover. A few more gunshots split the silence and people screamed and ducked, Jess included even as she kept striding forward, trying with all her might to be brave.

Sirens started up in the distance and more guns sounded, but they didn't surprise her this time. She wasn't being shot at.

Suddenly she was grabbed around the waste and bustled forward, weaving in and out of the people before she could really register who had her.

When she turned to the side, the first thing she saw were the scars.

"J!" she exclaimed, so relieved to see him she could scarcely keep herself from smiling.

"Shh, shh, shh, Jesster," the Joker said, his eyes darting around, hunched low, keeping out of people's way to detract attention from the two of them. "Not now. C'mon."

He was so cool in this situation.

Jess was amazed and couldn't stop beaming at him. His dark eyes flicked over at her only for a second and his mouth twitched as he pulled her up on the curb at the other side of the street. They ran for cover, no one even giving them a second look, and into an alleyway off the beaten road, slowing significantly, finally coming to rest against one of the walls. Jess was glad for this. She was finding it difficult to breath for hyperventilating and had to actually close her eyes to calm herself.

When she looked around again the Joker was a yard away, craning his neck to see around the far corner at the end of the alley. He looked back to her after a moment, his eyes burning.

"Shit," Jess muttered.

She recognized this look.

The man was pissed.

"Hey," she said, her voice taking on a soothing tone, trying to form her words like Gordon had. Maybe she could prevent the explosion. "So, we didn't get the mayor. But we got Gordon! The _head _of Major Crimes and the Batman's personal friend. That counts for something, right?"

The Joker stared at her for a moment. Then, slowly, he blinked.

"Personal _friend_, Jesster?" he asked, taking a step towards her, eyebrows raised.

Oh shit.

Jess shrank back against the wall, bashing herself for saying that. He'd want to know how she knew about the friendship--a fact she had learned from _Begins--_which would lead to questions about her world which would lead to questions about the Batman's identity, which would lead to…

"That _light_…" The Joker's voice surprised her. He was looking up at the sky now, his eyes pensive and calm, trying to figure something out. "That light on top of MC_U_…"

"Yeah!" Jess said, seeing a way out of this. "Who else would've put it there if not Gordon?"

She'd never actually seen the bat-light, but she'd heard the men talking about it. And she'd heard Schiff and White talking about it, too. Just like the comic books, a huge spotlight on top of the Major Crimes Unit cast a shadow of a bat into the night sky, striking fear into the hearts of all the criminals of Goth--blah blah blah blah blah.

She hadn't even connected Gordon with it until right now.

"_Good_ thinking, Jesster," the Joker muttered, his smile returning.

He glanced back out to the street, where the occasional person still sprinted by, away from whatever threat they thought there still was, and his smile widened.

"_But_ we didn't get the _mayor_…" The last word came out in a sing-song tone and Jess tensed again. He wouldn't forget this one so easily.

"Next time," she said. "We'll get him next time. Who is the mayor, anyway? What does he have to do with the Batman? Take out the people close to _him_, and…"

The Joker's head turned so fast it startled her, and within a few seconds he was right in front of her, his gloved hand pressing against the wall beside her head as he leaned in and grinned. His face without makeup was no less startling, but for different reasons.

She found she couldn't really meet his eyes like this.

"_Now_ you're thinking like you _should_ be," he whispered, his other hand traveling up to brush a strand of hair out of her face.

She was sure he wasn't deliberately trying to be gentle, but his motion softened her all the same.

She was such a girl. A complement and a soft touch and she melted like butter, right into the Joker's arms.

Did he know the affect he had on her, she wondered again.

Probably.

Her lips curved into a smile as she looked up at him and saw that his eyes were no longer dangerous. He pressed her back into the wall, his body long and lean against her, the most significantly intimate touch Jess had experienced from him thus far.

He really let himself _feel_ her this time, his hands traveling from her neck down her shoulders, over her arms and sliding firmly around her waist. He was warm and easy for the moment, and Jess loved it like this. She still couldn't be sure, though, whether she preferred him rough and needy or soft and casual.

She liked him both ways.

This was so sick.

So utterly sick.

"Y'know, you're _good_ for me," the Joker said, his lips brushing the skin on her cheeks and mouth. "You tell me what I wanna _hear. I _think I oughta keep you. See how _that_ turns out."

"Was there a possibility of me leaving?" Jess asked breathlessly.

He hadn't even really kissed her yet and she was _still_ finding it difficult to breath!

"_Good_ question." She felt his smile against her face and his hands tapped on her hips. "See, where there's chaos--where _I_ am--nothing's for sure, Jesster."

Jess looked up, meeting his eyes boldly.

"I know," she said.

He leaned down and kissed her then, _really_ kissed her. Jess could almost feel the need wash off of him as his hands clenched, his fingers dug into her skin and he pressed closer. She hooked her arms around his neck, never wanting to let go of this, and shivered as he deepened the kiss quickly, taking her for his.

And she _was_ his, that much she knew. Despite wanting to fight it, Jess was the Joker's through and through.

Perhaps deciding to fight had sealed her fate to lose. If she had given up, he'd want nothing to do with her but in resisting she'd hooked him. She'd made him want her.

And what the Joker wanted, he got. No one had ever argued with that.

She just didn't know _why_ exactly he'd want her... But she'd take it where she could get it.

The Joker inhaled sharply and forced her head back to deepen the kiss further. Jess wondered where he'd learned to do this so well. The way his tongue and lips worked together was almost cause for ovation, even more so because it came from such a startling source. She couldn't imagine him doing this too often, but he must have, at least when he was a little younger.

How old _was_ he anyway?

Did it matter?

Did anything matter besides his mouth and body and the way his breath stole hers?

No, Jess didn't think so.

How much she had changed!

_When_ had she changed?!

She certainly didn't remember deciding this was okay.

Funny how that worked out sometimes, huh?

His whole weight was settled against her now, one of his legs pressed between hers; half to keep her in place, half to add to the sex appeal of this situation. Jess had totally forgotten where they were. She vaguely felt the brick at her back but the softness of his lips kept overriding her brain and his teeth, when he bit down on her lower lip or scraped them along her jaw line, were startling, sexy flashes of pain.

His hands crept down from her hips, sliding along her dress to its hem, pressing close against her skin until they came to rest right at her upper thighs. He slid his fingers beneath the skirt and bunched it up slightly, shifting and pressing Jess further back into the wall.

Her breath caught as the familiar ache of desire flamed through her. Those hands… _His _hands… Streaks of fire on her cold thighs, feeling and squeezing. She moaned and arched against him, which, in turn, caused him to groan and squeeze her legs again.

Jess was at the point of total abandonment, convinced that she was about to give into him completely, here and now, in this cold, secluded alleyway. And she honestly couldn't think of a better way to do it.

Her hands came down quickly, starting to unbutton his official jacket, wanting only the body underneath, until, suddenly…

"Uh, hey boss?"

The Joker made a small growl in the back of his throat and broke away quickly, turning to look to the end of the alley where Blake and Austin stood, appearing extremely uncomfortable.

He rolled his eyes at them and glanced quickly at Jess as though to make sure she hadn't disappeared. She licked her swollen lips and smiled, extremely flattered that he had enjoyed kissing her enough to be this irritated when interrupted.

"Well, it's just…" Austin started, wringing his hands and avoiding Jess's eye.

"The vans are loaded and we've gotta get out of here while the getting's good." There was Blake, always so forward.

The Joker backed away from Jess slowly, his gloved hands disappeared into the pockets of his coat and she wished he hadn't moved as the warmth of his body gave way to the cold breeze blowing down between the buildings.

She reached out and clung to his arm as he started to walk forward, but as he continued to move without even glancing at her, she got the hint and let go, regaining her dignity and hurrying after the three men. She hoped Blake and Austin wouldn't talk about this. Their word would be so much worse than the actual thing.

But she knew they would.

As much as they loved and protected her, they still considered each other family and there was an unspoken loyalty there, too. She just wished they wouldn't whisper about her behind her back, too afraid to ask questions.

Women always got the bad rep for gossiping. What people never talked about is how men could gossip just as well.

Ah well. She couldn't blame them for being curious about her and the Joker. It was… a bit odd, to say the least.

But what in the Joker's life wasn't? Had he ever done a _normal_ thing?

Had he ever been with a normal girl?

Suddenly, Jess was feeling weirdly jealous at the thought of him with another woman. Was Harley a thing of the past or had they ever met? Had he actually ever had a wife? He seemed a bit young but you never knew…

Jess sighed. She'd have to be content with the fact that, right now, he wanted _her_ and no other women was in the picture. At least, she hoped so.

Oh God. This was tough.

* * *

Blake and Austin led them back the way they'd come, across the main arterial, now mostly deserted, and between the buildings along it. A feeling of ecstasy, of freedom and abandonment had been creeping into Jess all day and, as she walked briskly behind the Joker, seeing the ends of his green hair peeking out from underneath his hat and knowing who he was, the feeling continued to rise, filling her up.

She found herself beaming without knowing why.

They'd almost reached the vans--Jess could see them at the end of the long street they were on. Safety was so close. But, like always, nothing went according to plan.

"Hey!" A shout from behind caused the four of them to turn around.

Two cops stood about three yards, feet set apart, arms raised in defense, gazing at the group. The Joker tilted his head as he regarded these men and made no move to hide his scars. Obviously, he wasn't tough to recognize.

"Hey, that's… That's him!" one of the men exclaimed.

The response from Blake and Austin to this was instantaneous. While the cops were still fumbling for their guns, startled that they had actually found who they'd been looking for, the two men turned on their heels and sprinted off, expecting the Joker and Jess to be close behind.

Jess tensed and looked back at the boss, not sure what to do. Of course, she didn't want to get shot but the Joker wasn't moving and these two young officers were obviously rookies with little experience. Their faces showed just how frightened they were.

The officers stared at the two of them for a moment, eyes flicking back and forth between the Joker and Jess, focusing mostly on the clown who, they knew, was the real danger here, but wary of his girl all the same.

Jess's breath caught in her throat as she realized the relevance of this fact. _They_ were scared of _her_.

Once again, a feeling of great power washed over her and she smiled.

All of this looking and fearing happened in less than five seconds.

Then, the Joker tilted his head to the other side and, as his grin widened, he stealthily grabbed Jess's arm.

In a moment, they were off, running for dear life, Jess being pulled one step behind the Joker. The shots didn't come until a few moments later and Jess heard bullets bouncing off walls but didn't feel the sting of a wound. The two cops were surprised enough that their aim was affected and they started yelling for backup. This part of the roads was deserted, however, and their cries lost hope as they gave chase on foot.

As the wind burned through her lungs and her hand grew sweaty in the Joker's, Jess gave into the feeling of ecstasy. She started to laugh as she ran, not knowing from where she drew the breath but unable to stop. Her laughter seemed to slow the police officers and when she looked back they stumbled a few steps, looked at each other questioningly, and resumed the chase.

Jess laughed harder still.

It took only a matter of seconds to reach the vans. The Joker pushed Jess into the back and climbed in himself, peeking his head one last time out at the pursuing cops. Still laughing, Jess watched as her laughter carried into his. His body started to shake as the vans started up and by the time they were driving, racing away from the officers, he had exploded into crazy peals of laughter which melded with Jess's giggles. After a moment, he withdrew his head, turned to smile at Jess, and slammed the heavy metal door.

* * *

**REVIEW PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**


	23. Chapter 23

**Hey guys! I feel so bad for leaving you hanging this long. The end of the year REALLY caught up with me. It was tough just getting up and going to school in the morning because I was so ready to be done with high school. And it's just been SOOOO busy.**

**But I'm out now. Hooray! **

**Graduation is boring.**

**Thank you all so much for your reviews. They make my day. I want to say thanks especially this time to Tamara Evans. I had no intention of even working on this until the end of the year but she sent me this enormous review full of EXACTLY what I needed at the time to get me going. Thanks, Tamara!**

**I'm glad you all like this so much. And once again, I REALLY apologize for making you wait so long. This chapter took a lot out of me. I wrestled with a few major decisions in it. You'll see one right away ;)**

**Anyway, hope you enjoy! Seriously, love you all!**

**Review, please, even though I don't deserve it because I'm a terrible updater…**

**Oh! And listen to "Alone Down There" and 'A Different City" by Modest Mouse… Even though we're not at that part of the story yet… :)**

* * *

"Powers is hurt. Real hurt."

The announcement came from Billy as soon as the vans parked and the doors were opened.

Jess had been listening in amusement to the Joker's cheesy jokes during the ride home and giggling despite herself (his hand had been on her thigh, squeezing at every punch line, and all she wanted to do was drag him into the theater and retreat to the green room) but upon hearing this and seeing Billy's grim face as he looked in the back doors to the van, she immediately sobered and scooted forward, out of the Joker's reach.

"What? How?"

Billy sighed.

"Shot. In the stomach. It's… it's not looking too good."

Jess looked back in horror at the boss, wanting to see his reaction to this news. His smile was gone, yes, but he didn't look worried. On the contrary, he seemed… bored. He was still leaning back in the same position he had been, though the hand that had been on Jess's leg was now resting casually on his stomach. When he caught Jess's eye, he shrugged.

Billy saw all this, of course, and went on, swallowing his concern for Powers and continuing to report. Jess was reeling.

"We lost Schiff, as well. Peter saw him being dragged off by that Dent guy. No idea where he took him."

That did make the Joker stiffen and sit up.

"_Dent_?" he said. Then, he started to giggle. "_Dent_ got him?" His giggles grew in intensity and soon shrieks of laughter escaped his lips. "That… That is too _perfect…_ What's he gonna do? Look _pretty_ at him?" He hooted with laughter. "Ooh, but isn't cute little Dent going to be _so upset_ when he sees the _name_ on Schiff's tag!"

This last comment was way over Jess's head but now she had _two_ things to worry about.

"What if Schiff talks?" Billy asked immediately, voicing one of her fears.

The Joker looked at him slowly and licked his lips.

"He _won't_," he said, with such perfect confidence that for a moment Jess absolutely believed him.

Billy wasn't so easy, however, and his skepticism registered clearly on his face.

"Boss, Schiff's not too strong, you know? In the head? What if Dent…"

The Joker laughed again.

"What if Dent _what_?" he asked ironically. "_Tortures _him? No. No, no, no. See, Dent has this… _unalterable_ sense of justice. He likes to _resist_. A lot like the Jesster, here."

He motioned at Jess and Billy looked confused. Jess, remembering the conversation in which her resistance had come up, shrugged at Billy, trying to communicate that she'd tell him later.

"What Dent does, what he _says_, will have _no_ affect on Schiff. Besides…" the Joker smiled slightly. "He doesn't _know_ where we are. Blindfolds do _wonders_."

Jess couldn't contain herself any longer. Once the Joker had finished speaking, she turned to Billy and rushed to say, "Where's Powers?"

It sort of annoyed her that Billy looked up at the Joker for an okay to lead her away. The boss shifted and sat forward, then started to climb out of the van, obviously coming with them to see Powers. Jess followed him hurriedly, anxious about her friend's condition.

Billy had said, "It doesn't look good" and while he wasn't an optimist, he wasn't cynical either. He was realistic. That thought scared Jess.

Billy offered a chivalric hand to help her step down and she looked at him worriedly. He smiled, trying to comfort, but she saw the fear in his eyes, too. She looked down, not wanting to face that, and he put an arm around her shoulder.

With a surprisingly small amount of noise, the Joker also jumped out of the van and followed behind them.

The three of them entered the theater silently and walked down the hall to the backstage area, entering one of the dressing rooms Jess had never been inside. Three beds were lined up against the walls and various bags and pieces of clothing belonging to the men who shared the room were scattered about.

Around the bed at the far corner, a cluster of people had gathered, silent and grim, looking intently down at the figure between the sheets.

As soon as Jess caught a look at him, she gasped in dismay.

She'd never seen Powers so gray or weak, laying in bed feebly, his head tilted to the side, his hand up to the large bandage on his stomach which was still not doing a very good job at suppressing the blood. It was soaked through with red. The coppery smell of it hung in the air, mingling with the odor of the sick sweat from Power's drenched face.

One of the men, Alex, was dabbing his forehead softly with a white cloth but it was doing nothing to comfort him. His breathing was shallow and raspy, the dying rattle of a man who was not going to make it.

Suddenly, Jess felt very scared, very weak and very sad. She gripped Billy's arm in an attempt not to fall down and they moved forward.

"Powers…" she whispered as she took a place beside his bed.

The Joker was hanging back by the doorway, mercifully silent, but she could feel his eyes on her, calculating and cold. She shook the thought away and looked back to her injured friend.

His eyes were glazed over. He seemed not to be able to see anymore.

"Mom?" Powers asked.

Jess let out a sob of dismay and reached down to hold his hand. She shivered at how cold it was.

The rest of the men were completely still and silent, watching Jessica and Powers, no one wanting to say anything to upset the invalid. Powers smiled weakly at the warmth of Jess's skin and closed his eyes.

"I can't feel anything," he said. Jess squeezed his hand. "I'm cold. Everything's cold and dark."

"It's okay. You're going to be okay."

But there was no reassurance in her voice. She couldn't even get herself to believe it.

"I'm sorry, mom," he said, his voice no louder than a whisper. "I wasn't a very good cop."

"You're a great cop," Jess whispered, choking on tears. She swallowed, wanting him to find peace wherever he could. "And you're an amazing son. And friend."

"I love you, mom."

Jess sobbed, unable to help it escape her lips.

"I love you, too," she replied.

Powers' smile widened slightly and then his face changed to a look of intense agony. He let out a weak gasp…

"Powers?" Jess asked, squeezing his hand again but this time feeling no response in his pulse or a twitch of the fingers. Panic and sadness welled up in her chest and she started to cry huge shuddering tears. "Powers?!" She shook and tapped at his hand but he stayed still, his skin suddenly much colder.

Or perhaps _she_ just felt much colder.

"NO!" she screamed, and felt Billy's hands on her shoulders. She turned and pressed her face into his chest, sobbing great heaving cries, whispering, "He can't, he can't, he _can't_ be dead!"

Jess felt Billy's hands stroke her hair. And she felt him bury his face in her shoulder.

And she felt him cry, too.

* * *

They stayed with Powers' body for another hour or so, no one wanting to deal with it, no one speaking, everyone crying or staring or sitting with their head in their hands.

As time went by, men began to whisper to each other reverently, words to Powers' soul or his body or God or whoever they believed in to keep him safe and happy in the afterlife. Jess sat on a bed, crying quietly for most of the time. She couldn't believe this had happened. Even now, it seemed like a dream, like Powers would just wake up and be fine, ready for another day.

The Joker didn't move from his spot by the door. He knew when to be deferential. If he wasn't, he would have lost the respect and loyalty of every single person in the room. He knew that.

Jess did not want to be alone. But as people started to leave, saying good night, saying they just wanted to go to bed, and a few men started to load the mattress and Powers' body onto an old gurney they'd found or stolen or bought or _something_--Jess didn't care; what did it matter?--to take him and bury him, she found she needed to get out of there. She hadn't been particularly close to Powers out of the rest of the Twenty, but close enough to grieve him, to love him and to miss him. She was close to all of them like that. And she could only marvel and kind of admire the bravery of the men who were dealing with his body with an almost "business as usual" air.

But it was all tinged with an undertone of deep mourning and deep respect. They'd lost a comrade.

One of their own had fallen.

That thought was hideous. As was the question: what did a soul from the real world do when in died in the world of Gotham?

Was his death only fiction as well?

Jess stood up and walked slowly to the door. Billy caught up with her halfway there and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, leading her from the place. The Joker, also seeming to decide his respects were paid, followed them in silence for a while, until, seeing that they were headed in the direction of Billy's room, he came up beside them.

"Alright, Billy Boy," he said, also sliding his arm over Jess's shoulder and, in the process, knocking Billy aside. "I can take her from _here_…"

Anger flashed in Billy's eyes and, in a moment, he had tugged Jess roughly away from the Joker, who stopped in the hall, eyebrows raised in significant surprise. Jess looked between them, confused, tears still leaking from her eyes.

"She needs to be with _friends_, clown!" Billy all but screamed, his emotions suddenly catching up with him in a way that absolutely terrified Jess. His voice broke and he started to cry harshly. "You'll make her crazy if you just take her away!"

The Joker stared at him coldly, no feeling registering in his eyes. Looking at him, Jess started to cry harder, scared for yet another reason, shocked by his lack of empathy, even with her. She had come to hope that perhaps she could be starting bring out the human in him, but seeing him now, that hope vanished and she felt cold, utterly cold, and more broken than she ever had in her life.

Powers was dead.

She'd chosen the Joker over Billy.

Billy would probably die, too, if he didn't keep fighting.

And it was too late to change any of it!

"Oh, _poor_ Billy," the Joker said, the mockery in his voice as cutting as his knife. "_This_ is a song you've sung _before_!"

Billy stared at him, hard, his eyes full of hate.

"_Fuck_ you, clown!" he said, quietly but with so much angry passion that Jess felt, were she the target of his rage, she would be blown over.

The Joker, in his way, was also impressed.

Letting his irritation with Billy momentarily get the best of him, he instantaneously grabbed a knife from somewhere in his jacket--a scary, six inch blade--and lunged at the man. Had Jess not been there, she was sure the Joker would have wounded Billy seriously. There was murder in his eyes.

As it was, Jess was caught in the struggle and, before the Joker had time to rectify his movements, she felt the blade dig deeply into her left shoulder, all the way to the hilt of the knife.

Her scream of pain stopped the fight and she clutched at the blade protruding from her shoulder, adrenaline pumping so high she couldn't even hear herself as her scream echoed and then died into little wails of pain. She broke away from Billy, feeling her own blood spill over her hands, knowing she'd never experienced this kind of pain before, nor pain so intense.

No one would understand until they got stabbed, feel the muscle slice and tendons snap, feel the blade scrape across bone.

Jess fell to the floor, panting, her body going cold in shock and her vision blurring. Christ, was she such a wimp? She'd seen many war movies in which people had been shot through the heart and still managed to crawl and save their fallen partners…

Men had run down the halls at the sound of her yells, from Powers' room, and they surrounded her, talking loudly, asking questions, not wanting to touch her as she cradled her blood staunched arm, aware for the first time that she could no longer move the fingers of it. She let out another sob, this one of terror, and the men lurched backwards, then leaned forward.

Things seemed to pulsate and swim until, suddenly, one of them knelt down, took hold of the hilt of the knife and quickly wrenched it out of her shoulder.

Jess screamed in pain, falling forward into the shoulder of the man who had ripped it away, and he caught her. She heard the knife clatter to the ground in a sort of echoing haze.

Now the inside of her shoulder burned with a fiery intensity sharper than she'd felt before. Vaguely, she sensed a wadded ball of cloth being pressed firmly against her skin to staunch the flow of blood and familiar breathing filled her ears.

She took a deep shuddering breath into the chest of the man she was leaning against, trying to make herself stop crying but focusing too hard on the intense pain she was in, and as she breathed she smelled a familiar scent: mingled burnt matches, gasoline, and sweat with a deeper, darker, masculine aroma.

She suddenly felt very comforted, despite being in the arms of the man who had just stabbed her, and she reached her good arm--her right arm--up and folded it around his neck, pulling herself closer. The men around them quieted as though in shock and Jess vaguely heard the sound of footsteps as they receded down the hall, as though someone had just walked away in disgust. She didn't have to guess who the footsteps belonged to.

She felt the Joker wrap his arm around her waist and for a moment she was touched that he was comforting her like this. But then she felt him pull and realized he was only trying to get her to stand up. Not knowing what to do, only wanting to be taken care of now, she slowly let herself be lifted to her feet, still letting out panicked wails whenever her shoulder flashed fire.

"Oh, shh, shh, shh, shh…" she heard the Joker coo in her ear.

Coo wasn't the right word, not at all, but she was so comforted by him--indescribably, unbelievably, strangely comforted for no reason at all but the way he held her--that anything he did felt soothing and sweet.

Standing on her left, he wrapped an arm around her waist and kept his other hand up to staunch the blood with the fabric he'd apparently pulled from nowhere. Then, he walked her down the hall, ignoring the questions of the men, no emotion registering on his face.

* * *

"Sit down."

His tone was an order but Jess was glad to do it, all but falling onto the couch in the greenroom. She winced when the movement jolted her injury but otherwise, sitting was far superior to standing. A few unopened water bottles were laying in a box on the table and she reached over for one, eager to wet her dry lips.

The Joker had walked behind her, wandering about the room, humming some tune he'd probably just invented and Jess leaned back against the couch, taking sips of the room temperature water and whimpering in pain every time her shoulder throbbed.

After only a few moments of silence, she felt the couch cushion to her left depress as the Joker took a seat beside her. Taking no pains for her comfort, he pulled her heavy sweater over her head, stretched the neck of her bloodsoaked dress down over her shoulder and examined the wound for a moment. Jess's eyes fluttered open and she turned just in time to see him lift up a glass bottle of clear liquid and dump it onto her shoulder.

Jess screamed as searing pain ripped through her, the alcohol making her injury burn horribly. She started to cry great heaving tears and wail like a banshee, but the Joker slapped a gloved hand over her mouth, grabbing her cheeks in the process and hauling her face closer to his.

"I'm _trying_…" he dropped the now-empty Vodka bottle and pressed the bloodstained cloth back to her shoulder, wiping away most of the blood around the damaged area, "to _help_ you." He licked his lips and raised his eyebrows at her. "If you're gonna scream, you can just _bleed_."

Jess shut her mouth tightly, knowing that, regardless of the pain, this would help to heal her. The Joker looked down at her left hand, laying limp on the couch, and poked her palm with a gloved finger.

"D'you feel that?" he asked.

Jess nodded as he started to systematically poke each of her fingers. She could feel the sensations, yes, but she could scarcely move the hand. She told him as much.

Hearing this, the Joker stopped poking her and sat back, a satisfied look on his face.

"Your _hand_ will be fine," he reassured her, as though he'd gone to medical school and knew all about these sorts of injuries.

Still, for that indefinable reason, Jess was very satisfied and comforted by what he said.

"Now…"

The Joker turned back to the little table behind him and picked up something small and silver that Jess couldn't see very well in this light. Her head was starting to throb and she groaned and took a gulp of water. She watched her clown as he straightened back towards her, whatever he had picked up dragging a long, black, thin cord of string.

She suddenly realized what it was, what the boss was planning to do, and jerked away from him, her shoulder screaming in protest.

"No way, no way, no _WAY_!" she yelled, that phrase being the only one she could come up with in her panic.

The Joker sighed and grabbed her right arm, pulling him roughly towards her. The needle he held glinted in the dim light and Jess felt extremely faint. She couldn't just be stitched up like some rag doll!

"_Don't_ scream," he ordered, looking at her horrified face for a moment before making a discontented noise in the back of his throat and reaching into his inner jacket pocket for something. He brought out a small syringe with a little bit of clear fluid and shook it, testing the level of the drug or medicine or whatever.

"Here," he said, and swiftly the jammed the needle into Jess's shoulder, about three inches away from the wound. He pressed the back and she felt the liquid rush into her bloodstream. She gasped in pain and surprise.

"_That_'ll make it a little hard to feel," the Joker told her, his voice on the edge of a giggle.

She stared into his eyes for a moment, trying to convey how completely betrayed she felt, then blinked as the awful sensation from her shoulder began to diminish and after only a moment, her entire arm went numb.

It wasn't pleasant but it wasn't pain.

"How do you just carry shit like that around?" she asked, her voice croaky and hoarse from screaming.

The Joker gave her a short smile but otherwise ignored her question, picking up the needle again. She regarded it warily as he brought it towards her arm but he offered no words of comfort.

She couldn't even feel it pierce her skin and, as he started to sew her up, the only sensation she knew was a slight tugging as the thread was pulled taught. She watched his method with extreme interest. This needle was no suturing tool and to be able to so expertly pull her skin together without one was pretty incredible.

"Y'know," he began after the second stitch, just as she had come to expect, "I don't see _why_ you get yourself into these kinds of situations."

Jess didn't comment on how she'd hardly gotten herself into this. She'd just kind of been there. It was _his _fault.

But she didn't want another injury from arguing with him. It would only prove his point.

"You oughta just keep away from trouble, but you _don't_. I think you have a _nose_ for it. Don't you?" He didn't wait for a reply. "_I_ don't like it," he said, shaking his head, his eyes still on her wound as he continued to stitch. "Getting yourself into trouble _only_ makes trouble for _me_. I don't _enjoy_ having to fix you." He stopped, finishing her stitches, and bit off the length of extra thread. Then, he bent down and grabbed another Vodka bottle.

"I don't enjoy having to be fixed," Jess told him quietly as he poured alcohol on her arm. Thanks to the numbing stuff, she felt only the tiniest sting.

"_Don't_ you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

Jess frowned and shook her head. The Joker only smiled knowingly, as though he was more aware of her than she was.

"Why do you?" Jess challenged, hating when he was all high and mighty like this. "Why don't you just leave me be?"

"We've already gone _through_ this, Jesster," the Joker said. His voice was light but she could read the annoyance under it. "You've asked that question _before_."

"So give me a straight answer," Jess said, taking another gulp of water as the Joker roughly started to wind a long white piece of cloth around her shoulder, under her arm and around her shoulder again. "Not more of this 'I don't care, I picked you by chance' crap. Things have changed, haven't they? And you're still tending to me."

The Joker stopped and sat back, obviously displeased by her choice of words.

"_Tending..._" he said.

He stood up and started to pace back and forth, his features torn between irritation and laughter. Finally, he stopped and faced her.

"Things _have_ changed," he said. "I mean, you _know_ that. It's not hard to _see_. But, uh…" He hesitated, choosing his words, and his fingers wagged slightly in the air in front of him. Finally, he took a breath. "Okay, so, listen…" He sat down again, arms sprawled against the back of the couch. "There are _two_ things," he said, "that I _have_, that are _mine._ Irrevocably, unequivocally, indefinitely _mine_. So, uh, by their very _nature_, no one can take them. And no one can _touch_ them." He said the last part fiercely, unmistakably protective and jealous.

Jess frowned, wondering what he meant, wondering what he considered his.

What he said surprised her.

"The _first_ is this city," he said, turning to look out the window. "Gotham…"

The way he said that name… it was harsh and disgusted but had this overtone of desire and some kind of tenderness she'd only ever heard him voice for it.

"Gotham's _mine_. Everybody knows it. Even the Batman knows it and he's just _fighting_ to get it back." He giggled. "But he _can't_. This city, like everything else, has _changed forever_. No matter what, it's mine. I _like_ that."

"So what's the other thing?" Jess asked.

"See, you were _right_ about _that_ one," the Joker said, pointing to her. "You've changed _too_. And that change has given you to _me_."

Jess frowned.

"_I'm_ the second thing?" she asked.

"Smart girl…" the Joker said, almost sarcastically. "But _try_ and tell me you're not. Hmm?"

Jess thought a moment, wanting to open her mouth and just argue with him but somehow unable to. She wanted to say she was her own person, that she didn't _belong_ to anyone, but it would have been a lie. She'd even thought before that she was the Joker's girl. So perhaps that was more literal than she'd expected.

It wasn't really _news_ to her so she wasn't surprised. It actually felt sort of refreshing. He had voiced what she'd long suspected.

The Joker looked at her for a moment, but when it became clear to him that she wasn't going to try to argue, he smiled.

"You see why I get _upset_ when you get yourself into trouble?" he asked. "_Death_ is the only thing that'd take you from _me._"

He stood up then and walked to the window.

Jess stared after him, having been given much to think about. She had come to understand that death in this line of work was a very real possibility, even though she still couldn't quite grasp that Powers had died tonight. And it surprised her to know that the Joker, in his own way, was concerned for her. Or, at least concerned about her dying.

It was weirdly sweet, even if it was selfish.

Jess got up slowly. Her left arm was still entirely numb and she still couldn't really move her fingers very well but the control was coming back and she was extremely grateful. She needed to somehow convey that to him without making him uncomfortable.

She moved up to the Joker, whose back was turned to her as he gazed out over the other thing that he owned, and touched his shoulder blade gently. He hardly twitched, so she grabbed his shoulder and turned him around.

"Hey," she said, looking up into his eyes.

His expression had reverted to one of boredom and slight annoyance that she'd approached him, but she took the chance and leaned up to kiss him.

She tried to keep it from being too sweet and tender but couldn't help it. She felt that way inclined towards him at the moment. He _had_ just stitched up a wound of hers…

_After making it_, that nagging voice at the back of her head declared, but she ignored it.

He didn't let her kiss go the way it was going for long. After a minute, it deepened and she felt it go darker as he let his mouth tell her of his desire.

But she wasn't exactly in the mood for that. Regardless of the events in the greenroom, she _had _just been stabbed and her friend _had_ just died.

A twang of sadness as she thought of Powers made her break away with tears in her eyes.

The Joker noticed them and his mouth tightened.

"Get out of here, Jesster," he said, his eyes suddenly murderous for no reason.

Jess tried to think it through as she hurried for the door. Was he jealous she'd been thinking about something else while kissing him? Did he want her thoughts only to be on him?

Was that it?

That was so ridiculous!

Then again, this _was_ the Joker she was dealing with.

She glanced back at him once as she opened the door to leave. He had reverted to his original position, staring out the window, but there was something wrong about the way his hands gripped the sill…

As though under those purple leather gloves, his knuckles would be white.

Jess left, unsure as to whether or not that entire visit had been a success or failure, and walked down halls darkened both by nighttime and death.


	24. Chapter 24

****

Hey. Calm down. This is very important for the plot. Seriously, WAY more action (sexual and on) next chapters! For reals!

**Um... Yeah. I'm going to France which means hiatus for two weeks. Sorry about that, and about how long this guy took!! I love you all!**

**Reviews please!!!!!!!!!!!!!! **

**Listen to Human by the Killers (which is kinda happy and poppy but the lyrics SO work for Jess) and Down in a Rabbit Hole by Bright Eyes. Which is perfect all around.**

* * *

It wasn't as though she hadn't tried, she told herself.

She had. Over and over!

But trying to balance the two, along with dealing with her shaky mind, was near impossible. It felt like juggling volatile, clumsy torches while blindfolded, never knowing where the next burn would land. She knew that she'd have to give one up sooner or later. And she _knew_ she couldn't give up the Joker.

He was a disease, an addiction, a parasite crawling under her skin, consuming her slowly, piece by piece.

But how the hell was she supposed to let go of Billy?!

Billy, who she clung to by a thin thread, who tried with all his might to pull her back into sanity and followed her into the dark, where she so willingly went…

How could she possibly let that go?

The Jesster cried into her pillow, throwing her top hat across the room as its sharp corners dug into the flesh of her side where she'd laid against it on her cot. She felt dirty, bloody, used and in pain, her shoulder beginning to throb as the numbing stuff wore off. She though briefly about taking a shower but couldn't muster the strength to stand again after everything that had happened that night.

She'd been halfway to her room when the events and memories of the evening had hit her with a terrible force and she'd burst into tears. _Thank God _it hadn't happened with the Joker nearby. He'd only have made it worse.

Echoes and scattered bits of thought kept running through her mind, disjointed and too painful to catch hold of and examine at length, like a coin torched by flame and then tossed at her: James Gordon is dead Powers is dead Billy hates me the Joker will keep me I'm injured he hates me he's dead he's dead he's using me does he love me will he forgive me my shoulder aches my burns sting my body hurts he did this to me I let him do this to me I hate him do I love him what is he he's a monster he's a genius he's my God he's my Devil he's my everything I can't live without him…

It took her a moment to realize her thoughts had turned entirely to the Joker.

She screamed into her pillow, full of rage and sorrow, hating this. She flopped over and suddenly pulled her dirty, sweat stained dress over her head, whipping it to the floor and laying there in a bra and underwear, trying to feel better now that she felt like Jessica again.

Now that the Jesster was gone with her costume.

But she _didn't_ feel better and she realized the Jesster was the same as Jessica. They'd never been different, despite the feeling of power and villainy she had while dressing up.

She couldn't work herself to be two people, have multiple personalities or lives like the Joker had. She couldn't be Jess and be with Billy and be Jesster and be with the Joker because there was only one of her.

And she had been taken.

It no longer seemed like a relief to her, for the Joker to have said that about her being his. It seemed, now, like a prison sentence.

Only a moment ago, it had seemed like a beautiful promise.

"What is this?!" she screamed into her pillow, confused and conflicted, tears spilling the taste of salt into her mouth. How could she fluctuate between such different views on the same subject, especially if she really was the same person?

This absolutely, one hundred percent, sucked ass.

Knowing that, knowing there was nothing she could do to change it tonight, didn't help. Jess sobbed for at least another hour, until her head hurt and her lips were chapped and she couldn't open her eyes to leak another tear.

She fell asleep.

* * *

The pain woke her first, the worst morning pain she'd ever felt centered in her left shoulder. Surprised, confused, she looked down at her arm and whimpered when she saw the crusty scab forming under the messy but effective stitches.

Next came a fleeting moment of admiration at the Joker's handiwork. They weren't neat but she knew she wasn't infected with anything awful and it was easy to see her shoulder would heal properly. It was stiff, however, and swollen, a dark purple bruise forming around the outline of the cut. She could move her hand, thankfully, and almost bend her arm all the way, but otherwise jostling the thing caused considerable pain.

Keeping this in mind, Jess slowly sat up and gritted her teeth against the ache in her arm. She didn't even want to know what the ramifications would be of rolling or stretching it.

Another sharp sting of torture hit her as she stood up and she almost yelled out loud in agony. She needed something to ease this or she was not going to be able to get through the day but before she would crawl back to the Joker to ask for some pain meds (she knew he had them; he probably had every med on the face of the earth) she decided she'd try to relieve her shoulder in a more natural way.

Jess grabbed the heavy robe she'd received from Billy the first day she came here and left her room, heading for the shower.

Much to her surprise and pleasure, the water, so hot it left red streaks against her skin, did do the trick, and while she was under the flow she felt physically better than she had in days.

It could have been the fact that she was alone, as well. The men didn't bother her while she was in the bathroom, out of a mix of respect and embarrassment, so she could think and feel whatever she wanted. Today, Jess cried, tears mingling with the running water so that she wasn't even sure whether or not they _were_ tears.

She sobbed harshly for the pain, for Powers, for Billy and for the Joker.

It never even occurred to her to cry for herself.

* * *

After a solid hour in the steam and heat, after the hot water faded to warm and the warm started to fade, too, Jess exited the stall and brushed her hair, feeling renewed and invigorated, the way a good cry will do. She found a first aid kit hidden in one of the cabinets behind a mirror and tied up her shoulder with a bandage in a makeshift sling to keep it from being jostled too hard. She brushed her hair and wiped her face and dried off, then set back to her room. She'd been positively filthy after yesterday--the water off her back had come away stained red and grey--and simply being clean helped put everything into a little better focus.

She just had to keep her mind off of Powers.

Jess dressed in a worn, comfortable black cotton tee and soft faded jeans, then picked up her dirty costume and walked it to the laundry room, where she threw it alone in the washer with enough detergent to cleanse three closets. She took an Aleve for the remaining pain and decided to head for the rec room.

Time to face the music.

* * *

She was swarmed as soon as she entered the room, men surrounding her on all sides, asking questions, voicing concern.

"Are you okay?"

"What happened?"

"Billy won't tell us anything."

"Did the boss do that?"

"Is your shoulder okay?"

"Would weed help the pain?"

"We weren't sure if we should've followed you…"

"Thank God you're alright."

"Shit, that thing looks painful."

Jess almost laughed at them. Her men, who, against all odds, were so sweet and caring. And forgiving. More forgiving than she could believe.

"I'm fine," she said, smiling to show she was telling the truth. "It was an accident. I got in the way of his knife but I'm okay now. He… he sort of fixed me up."

"Got in the way of his knife?" a man with shaggy brown hair named Jackson asked. "What was he doing? Swinging it around on random?"

"Easy answer to that," came the deep voice of Blake.

Jess turned towards him, not having realized he was in the group around her. She'd been sure he was angry with her, too. He and Billy seemed to move as a unit nowadays.

But no. There he was with worried eyes but a smiling mouth. Jess's forced smile fell into an honest grin. At least he wasn't angry, which meant there was a chance Billy wasn't either.

"Billy was pissing the boss off, as usual," Blake continued. "They were fighting over Jess."

"No they weren't!" Jess exclaimed, not liking the way that sounded, even if it was mostly true. "The Joker wanted to talk to me or something--" someone scoffed at the idea of him wanting to just "talk" but Jess ignored it, "and Billy wanted me to stay with friends. It was…" Jess sighed, "It was just a really tough night. For all of us."

The men gave a collective nod and, satisfied by her explanation, began to move away. They were learning that the fewer questions asked, especially when it came to the Joker, the better, and Jess felt that they were happier not knowing every facet about her relationship with him.

After all, not even _she_ knew every facet…

Blake stayed nearby and, after the crowd had thinned, put an arm over Jess's shoulder.

"Is Billy mad?" she asked him immediately, and knew from the way his lips compressed that this was indeed the case.

"I'd say more at the boss than at you," Blake whispered, "but I think you really hit a nerve this time, Jesster."

Jess sighed heavily.

"I didn't mean to," she mumbled, "he _knows _I didn't…"

"Does he?" Blake asked. "Jess, you know Bill. He tends to take things personal. _Real_ personal. And how would you feel if the person you were head over heels for put her arms around a…"

"Blake, shut up, okay?" Jess snapped, torn somewhere between crying and blushing. "I get where he's coming from."

"You're not acting like it…"

"Seriously, shut up!" Jess pulled away from him sharply. "Maybe Billy just needs to let me go, huh? Maybe he can prevent himself from getting hurt if he just…" Her breath hitched. Oh no. No, no, no. She would _not_ start crying again. She took a deep breath. "I love him. I love all of you."

"You know that's not how he wants you," Blake said quietly, seeming guarded against her hysteric eyes. "How you love us, I mean. With Bill, it's different."

"It _can't_ be," Jess said.

God, she couldn't do this. Not today. Not now. Everyone was either attacking her or tiptoeing around her feelings. She hated that.

She turned and made her hasty way towards the door to the hall, but upon opening it, found none other than the Joker standing there, his gloved hand poised against the knob.

An odd rush of fear and affection hit Jess, and she raised her eyebrows at him and smiled.

"You're up early, boss," she said lightly.

The Joker hardly glanced at her, his eyes sweeping in sharp, flicking circles around the rec room, his jaw working, his mouth pursed. He was thinking, making a quick final decision, before simply walking past Jess and towards the television in the corner. Jess turned after him curiously. That was off. He would usually have said _something_-- "How's the, uh, shoulder, Jesster?" a simple "_hi_" or, if he was in a nasty mood, "get out." Staying silent, much less seeming to _decide_ to stay silent, was not how he was.

Jess was suddenly worried. Did he look sicker than usual? Had she done something in particular to piss him off? Was he awkward that he had helped her out last night? Even more unlikely, was he actually guilty about stabbing her? Or was she over thinking this, like he was a regular guy?

She decided on that last one and strode over to where he was leaning on the edge of the sofa, eyes fixed on the TV, which had been turned hastily to a news channel. She stood close to him, gauging his reaction to her, and noticed that there _was_ no reaction. Jess frowned, about to say something to him when suddenly the volume on the TV was turned up and the Joker's face had split into a wide grin.

"_There's_ Harvey," he said and Jess quickly looked up at the image on the screen.

There was Harvey, indeed, looking classy and handsome in a light grey suit and red tie, his blond hair combed neatly away from his eyes, his classic jaw line almost _too_ classic. He was standing behind a podium on a temporary stage before floor to ceiling windows. The shadows just under the position of the camera gave the impression of a full audience. Jess nodded. A press conference. Why had this been called, then?

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Dent, "thank you for coming. I've called this press conference for two reasons. Firstly, to assure the citizens of Gotham that everything that can be done over the Joker killings is being done."

As the people in the conference room started to mutter, Jess's heart leapt. They were talking about her little group! Was this why the Joker was keen on watching it? He'd gotten everyone gathered around the TV, but surely just a mention of he and his accomplices didn't constitute an entire half hour of news watching.

Dent's next sentence explained everything.

"Secondly," he said, his facial expression flickering slightly, "because the Batman has offered to turn himself in."

Jess turned her head so fast in the direction of the Joker that her neck cricked. He stood still, staring at the television, his jaw working slowly, a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

"But first, let's consider the situation," Dent went on, talking over the mumbling crowd. "Should we give in to this terrorist's demands? Do we really think that he's gonna--"

"You'd rather protect an outlaw vigilante than the lives of citizens?" one of the female reporters asked loudly. Murmurs of agreement resonated through the room. The Joker giggled, the delighted, childish kind where he didn't even open his mouth.

"The Batman is an outlaw," Dent conceded, "but that's not why we're demanding he turn himself in. We're doing it because we're scared. We've been happy to let the Batman clean up our streets for us until now."

"Hear that, boss?" one of the men asked loudly as the room in the television started afresh with mumbles and protestations. "We scared 'em good!"

"Shh, shh, shh, shh…" was all the Joker said. All turned their attention back to Dent and his microphones.

"But the night is darkest just before the dawn," he said seriously, seeming to find eye contact with every individual in the room. "And I promise you, the dawn is coming."

"Ohhh…." the Joker whispered with a chuckle.

"One day, the Batman will have to answer for the laws he's broken, but to us! Not to this madman."

For a second, Jess thought Dent had turned the crowd's opinion. He was a convincing speaker. Then, suddenly, came the cry of "No more dead cops!" and the room at large echoed this opinion. Dent stood at the microphones, looking defeated.

"So be it," he said, walking out from behind the podium. "Take the Batman into custody."

Confusion reverberated throughout the room.

"What?"

"Is he here?"

Even the Twenty looked confused, eyes fixed on the screen. Jess found her heart pounding and her mind screaming.

_Don't do it, Bruce_, the sane part of her yelled, _Don't! We all need you. Even _he_ needs you._

Then, Dent did the most noble thing she'd ever seen.

"I am the Batman," he said.

All the men in the room let out a groan.

"What!"

"Come on!"

"Fuckin' liar…"

It was mostly the same in the conference room. Not a single person believed Harvey Dent but, true to their duty, the police officers arrested him. Jess sighed, half in relief, half in disappointment. She wondered if Dent was out of the picture now.

She looked up at the Joker, who was still staring at the TV as it showed Dent being taken out of the room in cuffs. He had a bemused look on his face but his eyes were fire and he tilted his head at the screen, his tongue working his teeth behind his lips, trying to decide his next course of action. Suddenly, he grinned hugely.

"_So_…" he said, "_That's_ the way Harvey's gonna play it…" He smacked his lips. "Well, we can play, _too_…"

"What're we gonna do, J?" Jess asked quietly. Without a word, the Joker went up and flicked off the TV.

"_I_ think…" he said to the room at large, "we oughta pay Dent a _little…_ visit, hmm?" The men around her laughed lowly.

"He should be headin' to county tonight," someone said. The Joker glanced at him with his lids lowered and blinked slowly, as though that was the most obvious thing anyone could have said.

"Yeah…" he said. "Okay, Sanders?" He motioned to a man named Seth sitting on the couch, whose ears positively perked up at the call of his last name. "I want Maroni on the _phone_," he giggled. "Or the doorstep. I gotta talk to him."

* * *

It was incredible to Jess how ten minutes of television in the morning could completely make the agenda for the entire day. With startling abruptness, everyone was busy, having been given orders from so and so who had received them from thus and so who had spoken privately with the boss and so on. The Joker himself was noticeably absent from any room Jess entered and she only wondered what he was doing, as he seemed not to be in the building. Perhaps conversing with Maroni...

Sometimes as many as five men would disappear at a time, and come back an hour later smelling of gasoline or holding garbage bags full of explosives, crates of guns, or cans of spray paint.

At around one in the afternoon, an enormous semi with the words "Laughter is the Best Medicine" and a merry-go-round painted on the side arrived in the back lot of the theater, driven by an older man with a calm yet apathetic look in his eye, as though the lot of them could be murdered and he'd simply smile serenely and drive away.

Jess didn't like him from the first.

Moments later, up pulled, of all things, a garbage truck. Ten of the men, along with Jess, gathered outside near the vehicles, waiting for orders from the boss. Jess wondered what the hell they had planned for these.

But, she supposed, that didn't really matter right now, did it? As it had been for the past few weeks, Jess was simply along for the ride, hanging on as hard as she could so as not to fall off. The men began conversing, deciding that the semi driver should retain his post since none of them felt they could safely handle a sixteen wheeler, and giving the job of driving the garbage truck to Boris, who used to be a garbage man before being convicted for grand theft auto.

Jess tried to ask a few of them what they were doing, but they just smiled at her and told her to hang tight or start loading the semi with the various weapons and explosives. So, she wandered about aimlessly after tossing in a few bags of dynamite to the dirty floor in the back compartment of the vehicle, a metal box so tall and long that she was fairly sure the entire Twenty could fit back there and still have room to spread their arms and relax.

Weapons and dynamite crates started to pile up along the walls and Jess soon came to be part of a loosely organized conveyor system to load the rest of them. She stood in the bed of the semi and crates and boxes were handed up to her by a few men below. She immediately took and stacked the crates with those of like kinds--dynamite with dynamite, guns with guns, ammo with ammo. At one point, a man handed her a very long, tall metal case, which she dragged to the gun area and opened to satisfy her curiosity.

"Oh!" she said lightly upon seeing the weapon inside. "A bazooka."

She gingerly closed the case and left it sitting on the ground, then jumped out of the vehicle and walked up to Josh, who was idly spraying "HAHAHA" with red spray paint onto the side of the semi.

"Did you know we have a bazooka?" Jess asked, forcing her tone to take on a sort of conversational air.

She didn't know why, but that thing had seriously shaken her. What the hell was the Joker planning to do with a bazooka? And what kind of huge weaponry was in the cases she _hadn't_ opened?!

Josh turned to look at her curiously.

"Do we?" he said. "Huh."

Jess was decidedly dissatisfied by his reaction but aware of the hint that needed to be taken: the fewer questions, the better. She was sure all of the answers would come at some point, and those that didn't were probably better left alone.

Jess grumbled and picked up a can of green paint from where it had been thrown on the ground, then examined the wall of the semi for something she could put her own creative touch to.

The answer came suddenly, and so did her huge grin. Jess ran and dragged over a box so she could stand on it, reaching higher up the wall of the truck, then painted a huge green "S" just in front of the word "Laughter." She jumped down giggling, thinking it original and clever. Josh backed away, examining her work.

"Slaughter is the best medicine," he read, and laughed too. "You're wicked, kiddo."

Jess's smile faltered for a moment--not even she was sure why--but she made an exaggerated swooping bow.

"Thanks!" she said, and jumped down from her stand, only cringing for a moment when her shoulder gave a cry of concern, then bounding away into the theater again.

She felt giddiness take over, a reckless flying sensation that seemed to be coming more and more often and very suddenly. When she really thought about her situation, there was nothing to be giddy about. In fact, it sort of sucked. Perhaps it was her mind's defense mechanism.

Whatever it was, she was glad for it. She liked feeling like the Jesster, like nothing could hurt her, like she ruled the world. And why not feel that way, especially when the rest of the time you have a sinking feeling in your gut? She deserved it.

The happiness didn't even fade when she saw Billy coming down the hall, his recovering arm in a heavy sling, in the other holding a box of what could only be dynamite and the keys to one of the vans.

"Billy!" she exclaimed, and ran up to hug him, doing so as an attempt to convince the both of them that everything was alright between them. Billy stiffened when she wrapped her arms around him and Jess tried again, giving him a squeeze, her mood already starting to drop as her hope did.

"You okay, Jesster?" he asked when she broke away, a cool look in his green eyes.

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" Jess said, keeping the smile, hoping it would lighten things. "Look, I'm _really_ sorry about last night. I didn't mean for it to…" Jess stopped, frowning suddenly as what he'd said clicked. "Hold on," she said. "Billy, what the hell? You never call me Jesster."

Billy sighed and put down the box, apparently aware she wasn't going to let him leave.

"Listen," he said, "I'm just addressing the person I'm speaking to."

"Yeah!" Jess said, "And I'm _Jessica_. Jessica Anderson. You _know_ I hate that fucking nickname!"

"Do you?" Billy asked. "Do you really hate the things you say you do? Or are you just trying to tell yourself that?"

Jess's heart plummeted to the bottom of her gut. This was not how she'd wanted this to go. He was _mad_.

"I thought you understood…" Jess said. "You said you were okay with my… _whatever_ with the Joker. You said it didn't bother you." Billy was already shaking his head.

"I never _once_ said that," he replied. "Not that it matters to you. Jess, he stabbed you in the fucking _shoulder_ while trying to kill _me_ after our _friend_ died! Do you think that's someone you just… I don't know, _fuck around _with?! You're not his little girlfriend What's-her-name from in the comic books. You're not that messed up in the head!"

"How do you know what it's like up here?" Jess cried, tears coming to her eyes as she gestured to her mind. "I can't _help_ how I feel, Billy!"

"Oh, it's about feelings now," Billy said. "That's a surprise. Last time it was just about staying alive, about being confused and alone. Apparently now you know _exactly_ how you feel about the Joker. You know, I tried to help you. I tried to make it so that you wouldn't have to resort to him. You _could_ have chosen _any_ of the Twenty at _any_ time to fulfill your little heart."

Jess flinched at every sentence. He spat the word "heart" viciously.

"_Especially_ me, Jess," Billy went on. "Do you realize how hard it was to watch you do this to yourself? Not just to yourself, that's the sick thing. To all of us. We just wanted you to stay who you were before all of this; innocent, adorable, brave…"

"So you lied!" Jess said. "Don't think I've forgotten your lies, Billy! Do you _know_ how huge of a betrayal that was?! And how the hell can you _possibly_ expect me to be the same person I was after all of this?!"

Billy's lips tightened and his eyes went hard. Jess saw the comeback there before he even threw it at her.

"You could have at least _tried_," he whispered.

Without another word, he picked up his box and walked away. Jess stared after him, mouth agape, not sure whether she was more angry or sad. In any case, tears were spilling almost constantly into her eyes and she wiped them away violently.

He'd abandoned her. He couldn't even stay with her through this.

That couldn't be love.

She sobbed, knowing that she hadn't stayed with him. She'd hurt him, too, and barely thought of it. But did that really constitute suck harsh words? And did he really mean them all? Did that mean they were no longer friends?

Jess couldn't deal with that. She turned on her heel and walked in the opposite direction Billy had, distancing herself from him as best she could, both physically and emotionally. She didn't know what she could possibly do. So why fight?

Jess made her way to the green room.

* * *

"Yeah?" the voice answered as soon as she knocked. Jess almost managed a smile at its sound. He was in there. She could bask in him for a while.

She opened the door slowly, considering this an invitation.

"Hey, J," she said gently.

He was over by the window, seemingly his favorite spot, shoulders hunched as he watched the city, tapping his gloved fingers. He didn't turn to her, which usually would have indicated to Jess that he was feeling calm and thoughtful, but the way he held his shoulders, the way his fingers drummed… That was indicative of busyness, or perhaps restlessness. Perhaps even anger.

If it was anger, it wasn't directed at her, that much she knew, so she deemed it safe to approach him. Jess walked up behind the Joker and gently put her hands on his perfect back, pleased by the feeling of silk and cotton over his tensing muscles.

Wait.

Tensing muscles?

In a moment, the Joker had pulled away, almost bristling, and walked, working his jaw tersely, to bend over some papers strewn about a table. Jess frowned after him, wondering what had him so upset. He rifled through the documents one the table, muttering to himself scattered, nonsensical bits of phrases Jess couldn't even begin to piece together.

"See, then it… _no_, but they wouldn't… the guns aren't… _Dent_… it's a _distraction_…"

"J?" Jess asked.

He looked up at the opposite wall at the sound of her voice, his eyes betraying blatant irritation, then he rolled his neck, cracking it.

Jess wasn't sure what to do. More than anything, she wanted him to kiss her, throw her down on the couch, make her forget Billy and what he'd done to her, pay in some way for how she had changed—especially considering that he himself had inflicted and ushered along the transformation! Jess tensed suddenly, anger rising. That was it, wasn't it? He was responsible for _all_ of this. The least he could do was turn and look at her!

"Listen," Jess said, forcing her voice calm. "I don't know _what_ you're thinking or anything, but if you're… I don't know. If you're _concerned_ or upset or something about me, about whatever it is we're doing, then maybe… maybe we can talk about it or something. I mean, I'm lost and I know it would be helpful for me…"

Jess's words faded as the Joker continued to pour over his papers. He wasn't even gracing her with a glance! Mature.

"But you're not really the talking type, are you?" she asked bitterly. "Not unless you're trying to undo a person's sanity, right? I mean, seriously, am I right?"

The Joker was silent, eyebrows furrowed as he read, not reacting to anything she was saying.

"What the hell is it?" Jess cried. "Can you not hear me? Or are you just pointedly ignoring me for whatever reason? What did _I_ do?! I can't remember insulting you in _any_ way, at least not enough to be treated like this after all the shit you've done to me!" That got a reaction, albeit a miniscule one. Somewhere deep in his throat, the Joker giggled.

At that moment, Jess got really, _really_ mad. She'd come here wanting some comfort, _any_ comfort, from the memory of Billy. Billy, who hated her now… because of the Joker!

"Fuck you and your little giggles!" Jess yelled, so beyond caring she couldn't believe it.

The Joker's fingers hadn't even twitched for his knife. He was torturing her in another way now.

"You remember saying I was yours? Well, what will you do when I take myself back, huh? What will you do when this _city_ takes itself back?! Because it will, Joker. The Batman will see to that. I promise you, it won't be yours for long. And you'll lose _everything_."

The Joker straightened up and turned towards her. Jess stilled. Oh God. Once again, she was relatively sure she was going to die now.

The Joker was wearing a crooked grin and laughing silently. His shoulders shook as he took a few steps forward but his eyes weren't glued to her face and Jess realized he wasn't walking towards her, he was walking past her. He passed close by, close enough that she could feel the air stir and smell his peculiar, delicious smell, but he didn't look at her. Instead, he headed to the door. Jess turned after him, half shocked at her good luck, half disappointed and angry that he hadn't taken the bait.

He was toying with her. She knew that. But what was his motive?

The Joker got to the door and put his hand on the knob, still muttering to himself.

"_She _certainly seems to think so…" Jess heard him say, before exiting the room and slamming the door behind him, leaving her in darkness as though she hadn't been there at all.

It only took a moment for the predicament to hit her with full force. Jess stumbled back to the couch and sat down upon it, giving herself up to tears.

She wasn't just physically alone. She was completely, totally, utterly alone.

* * *

**Okay! I hope you liked it!!**

**I'll have more for you soon. Reviews please!!!**

* * *


	25. Chapter 25

**As you might've guessed, I'm back! France was awesome.**

**I truly apologize for how long this one took. Having said that, thank you all SO MUCH for your feedback and reviews!! I love them. And thanks for not giving up on me.**

**I hope you like this new chapter!! Even more Joker/Jess action in the next (and that is a promise)!**

**Review! Let me know what you think!**

* * *

Jess all but ran along the corridors in the direction of her room, tears sliding freely down her cheeks, her face contorted into an expression of fierce anger and complete determination.

This was the last straw, and Jess was done being here, done having to deal with all of this. She wanted to feel alive and free again, have enough confidence to face the Joker's disregard of her and Billy's anger. She wanted to feel sexy and powerful.

What better way to do so than pretend she was someone else?

Her first stop was the costume closet, where she found a gorgeous pair of round-toed black pumps with three inch heels. Jess managed a smile as she took them. Screw being able to walk; her legs would look fantastic.

Her dress had reached the drier, luckily, and she stood there in the laundry room, stripping out of her jeans and shirt, not even bothering to go back to her room to change. If someone walked in he could just deal with it.

Some unhealthy part of her _wanted _someone to walk in, just so she could watch his eyes go wide as he examined her.

But no one did. Jess slid the dress on over her head and zipped it up in the back.

Once the tight cotton material melded with her skin, once she could feel the different seams where each of the patchwork patterns that made up the dress met, she took a deep breath.

The change wasn't complete but she could feel it coming. She was getting there.

Jess walked to her room, picked up her makeup and hat, and headed to the bathroom. Once there, she lined her eyes darkly in black and added a little swirl below her lash line. She reached for the lipstick, hesitating momentarily over color before she grabbed the deep red. She was going to get back at both of them by looking the part of the vixen tonight, and she did her full lips darkly.

Jess smiled at her reflection, feeling the Jesster even closer, within arms length. She reached out and grabbed hold of her upon stepping into the pumps and jamming the hat on her head.

Perhaps she'd been wrong about Jess and the Jesster being the same. She certainly felt new and different like this. That giddy feeling was back and she was confident that the Joker would not be able to ignore her for long tonight. And being back in the Joker's arms, right in front of Billy, would be the greatest reward imaginable.

She struck a pose in front of the mirror, pleased by the way the pumps made her legs look in the short dress, and flicked her hair under the hat into looking sort of edgy.

Then, last but not least, Jess went to the sink and, with the Swiss Army Knife from the med-kit, cut in half one of the little white pills she'd stolen from the green room just before leaving it. She ingested only one of the halves, wanting the feeling of happiness and comfort but still wanting to be able to think.

Then the Jesster left the bathroom.

* * *

"Hey, come on."

Almost immediately upon entering the rec room, Jess was hailed by Jackson, who grabbed her arm and started to pull her towards the exit again, all the while looking at her appreciatively.

The Twenty, with the exception of Billy, liked it when she dressed up, she'd come to notice.

They hurried to the semi, still parked outside but, by this time, all loaded. Jess was starting to feel the buzzing, pleasant effects of the white pill (the other half of which she'd wrapped in toilet paper and stashed under her pillow for later use) and smiled widely as she jumped into the back of the truck with six other men. Her shoulder was but a distant memory now and she sighed in content, leaning into Blake as he put her arm around her, pleased he was one of the men in the truck with her.

"All of us are in on this one," Blake was whispering.

Jess let his words flow through her, understanding them passively, her mood high, forgetting all negativities as the back doors of the truck were slammed close. The Joker wasn't back here with them and she wasn't sure whether she was relieved or disappointed.

"The boss isn't letting any of us sit it out. Hell, even White is riding with Boris and Arnold in the garbage truck." Blake's eyes flickered as though haunted. "He doesn't look too good. White, I mean. He keeps talking about how the boss reached in and took away some of the voices. It's creepin' me out."

Jess giggled vaguely, not really caring about the Arkham patient or his voices.

"Where's Billy?" she found herself asking. Blake's lips tightened only briefly.

"He's off doing something or other. Something with five other guys and a fire engine. I think they're distracting the convoy's course somehow. Then there's the two, plus White, in the garbage truck, and the last four are doing something about the police helicopters that are sure to be there. Billy's group'll rendezvous with them after they're done with the fire truck."

Jess raised her eyebrows and nodded, impressed.

"How the hell do you know all this, Blake?" she asked. Blake graced her with a wolfish grin.

"I make it my business to know, sweetheart."

The truck started to move, jolting everyone in it as it pulled out of the lot and wound its way down the city streets. Jess closed her eyes and smiled widely, enjoying the gentle sway of the vehicle and the deep rumble of the engine. She sighed and rested her head against the cool metal at her back. This was all so wonderful. She couldn't wait for the real adventure to begin.

"Hey, listen…" Blake said, calling Jess back into the land of the conscious. "In case we get split up or something tonight…"

Blake pulled a piece of folded white paper from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. Jess frowned, opened it, and inspected it, realizing after a few moments that the intersecting lines and symbols formed a roughly drawn map. In one corner, along Market Street, stood the theater, home base. Blake had sketched the path through the maze of the streets of Gotham all the way to County jail across town. Jess nodded, smiling and tucking the paper down her shirt for safe keeping. What Blake was trying to tell her was that there was a very good chance they _would_ get separated tonight and to run for home if things got too hairy. She'd need the map. She knew next to nothing about the layout of the roads in the city.

This simple gesture uncovered in Jess a sudden fear of what might happen to them all tonight. The other men sat in the back of the semi with grim faces, and suddenly Jess was aware of the air of urgency and seriousness tonight had assumed. She giggled slightly, nervously, determined to have a good time in any case, at least until things got too scary. This was a turning point, she felt.

After tonight, things would be different.

The truck took a sharp left turn, then drove smoothly straight for a while before, quite abruptly, coming to a shuddering halt. One of the men jumped up and ran for the dividing window between the cab--where the driver and the Joker sat--and the bed of the semi--where the rest of them were. He peered through, trying to get a glimpse of the street beyond the front windshield, and shared a few hushed words with one of the men in the cab. Then, he turned back to the rest of them.

"We've been stopped at a roadblock," he stage-whispered. "The police are trying to let the convoy through."

No sooner had the last word flown from his mouth than a deafening blast shook the air and made Jess jump. A shotgun had just gone off.

And now the truck was flying.

Jess held onto Blake as the vehicle zigged and zagged, back and forth down the blocked avenues. She could just see up over the ledge of the large dividing window between truck and cab, but could distinguish nothing but silhouettes beyond. The Joker was laughing hysterically in the front seat, that much she heard.

The sound was almost a comfort. It meant everything was going well for them. Slowly, the men around her started to sigh and relax a bit, jumping to the duty of unpacking a few crates of explosives and weapons. Jess crawled across the violently moving floor of the truck and helped them do so.

She had just finished lifting a silver handgun out of its case when she heard the hideous sounds of clanging, screeching metal from somewhere only a few yards away. Dim voices could be heard, yelling unintelligible things into walkie-talkies and the semi accelerated, the sounds coming closer as it headed straight for them.

Jess clung to the gun with both hands, bringing it to her chest for safety without realizing what she was doing as she heard another heavy screech, like two large, armored cars crashing into each other.

Blake was laughing, up at the window to the cab, watching the scene. He yelled back:

"The garbage truck's doing a number on the SWAT van. Boris is on the point of reckless!" He laughed again and looked forward. Suddenly, his face took on a look of anxiety. "We're coming on 'em fast!" he yelled. "Everyone down!"

Jess had just enough time to duck herself over the gun before the collision. In a cacophony of squealing metal and a jerk that nearly gave her whiplash, the semi barreled fearlessly into one of the cars in the convoy, sending it skidding to the side, probably hard enough to hit it off the road. Sure enough, Jess heard the critical sound of a very large, heavy piece of metal plummeting into the water under the bridge they were crossing.

Well, one truck down…

Jess's attention was distracted when she heard someone clamber clumsily through the divider from the cab and she looked up to find the Joker there, dressed to the nines in his long purple jacket, his green hair lank and greasy, busy ordering a man named Maxwell to hand him some ammo. He was swaying from side to side, trying to keep his balance in the still swerving truck, and took a few steps forward, looking at the piles of gun crates as though trying to find his next weapon of choice.

As it usually happened, sooner or later those incredibly dark eyes swept over Jessica.

As soon as she made eye contact, Jess smiled widely at him and stood up, pretending not to find it difficult to even move about on the heels she wore, much less in a sharply veering semi truck. The Joker's eyes flicked away from her like he was nervous--jittery probably being a more accurate term--his expression serious, but then settled back on her face momentarily. His tongue slid out and wet his dry lips as he glanced down, quickly noting her body, to settle on the gun she was holding out to him. His mouth dropped open slightly and the corners turned up as he smiled, working his jaw, trying to decide what to say.

The only sound that escaped him, however, was a quiet "_ahh_…" and a mildly delighted giggle.

Jess was incredibly relieved; so relieved, in fact, that she failed to wonder why exactly he wasn't ignoring her anymore.

The Joker wasn't telling, of course. He simply reached out for the heavy weapon she held and hoisted it easily away from her. Then he turned his back, without so much as a thank you, and motioned for Keith and Seth to slide open the truck's cargo door. A few of the men quickly slid their clown masks over their heads.

For the first time Jess was aware just how fast these vehicles were going, and how skillfully the driver maneuvered them in and out of the columns in the tunnels of Lower Fifth. She stumbled a few steps back away from the cargo door, through which the wind was whipping violently and out of which the Joker hung fearlessly, the silver gun in his hand. She watched in admiration as he brought it up, hesitated momentarily, his eyes dark and intense, then leveled, aimed and fired quick rounds at the police convoy, paying special attention to the armored car they were parallel to.

The armored car locked up its brakes but, in a sort of beautiful choreography, the garbage truck behind it, driven by Boris, pushed it forward to stay alongside the semi.

The handgun she had given the Joker was apparently a semi-automatic and it rapid fired, bullets spraying the side of the armored truck at random.

After a moment, he was out of bullets and held out his hand for another gun. Jackson, standing to his left, immediately placed a shotgun in his palm and the Joker fired off an explosive bullet, straight into the side of the armored car. It did little more than dent it, however, and Jess watched his broad back as he knelt down, aimed and took another shot, still not piercing the thick hide of the vehicle.

Jess had a sudden idea, and she stumbled back towards the weapons piles, grabbing the cords she hadn't noticed until just then that were dangling from the ceiling for balance. They'd need something a lot bigger than a shotgun if they wanted to get through the layers of steel that made up the armored car's heavy coat.

In a flash, she was holding the bazooka, taking no time to wonder at the brutality of what she was proposing, nor any to comprehend that she was aiding the Joker who was carrying out an enormous crime. She lugged the heavy launcher back to the cargo doors and handed it to Jackson, who smiled at her widely before taking it with both hands and giving it to the boss.

The Joker glanced in amusement at Jess--and God did it feel good to have him actually _look_ at her, _notice_ her, even if it was only momentary and even if his expression immediately slid to one of ennui when she looked too happy about it--and gratefully took the bazooka.

With a competence that made Jessica want to jump on him and stick her tongue in his mouth, the Joker almost mechanically hoisted the bazooka over his shoulder and, his mouth creased and tight in focus, took aim through the viewer.

God, he was so hot.

Jess covered her ears at the explosive noise as the bazooka went off, decimating one of the police cruisers in front of the armored car in a ball of fire.

When her ears stopped ringing, she could hear the men hooting and hollering and laughing as the Joker reloaded another missile.

This time, Jess was prepared and backed away, ducking against the noise as the launcher fired again, destroying another police cruiser.

The Joker put aside the bazooka and Jess deemed it safe to stumble closer to the cargo doors, cursing these beautiful high heeled shoes for being so damn difficult to walk in.

It was all worth it, however, when she looked to see the Joker surreptitiously examining her legs, his eyes sliding up and down before he flicked them away and pretended to have been absorbed in studying the road outside. He leaned forward, looking out the door, and Jess watched his face change to an expression of detached fascination.

It wasn't hard to guess what had him so interested.

The noise outside suggested yet another vehicle approaching, this one smooth and high tech and fast.

Jess looked around the corner of the cargo door and got her first glimpse of the Batmobile.

It was approaching fast, its huge black frame flying over the concrete. It bypassed both the armored car and the semi, heading straight for the garbage truck.

Jess gasped as it ran headfirst into Boris's vehicle, pushing it back as it slid beneath it, annihilating its front bumper and most of the equipment underneath. After a few moments, the garbage truck sat in a crumpled heap and the Tumbler whipped around to continue its chase. Jess hoped Boris and Arnold were okay. The Joker, who had been watching all this, sat back with raised eyebrows.

"Hmm…" he mumbled, and picked up the bazooka again.

Jess was seized with a burst of giggles as the phrase "if at first you can't succeed, try, try again" echoed in her head. The air of normality with which the Joker loaded such an absurd weapon made her want to fall into hysterics. The Joker brought it up to his shoulder, still kneeling, and aimed.

Suddenly, everyone in the semi was thrown off balance as it careened into a car in its path. It destroyed the smaller vehicle without a backwards glance but it took a moment to resume footing as the semi swerved to avoid doing that again.

The Joker clicked his teeth irritably but put the bazooka back on his shoulder, taking his time to aim at the armored car, the only thing left of the convoy, in which Dent, presumably, was riding.

The Joker steadied and fired. Jess was thrown off balance again by the noise and the way the semi rocked, and she landed only feet away from the open cargo door, sliding around on the ground with the loosed weapons cases. She watched the missile from the bazooka launch across the tunnel towards the armored car and, in the last moment, get diverted from its true path by none other than the pursuing Batmobile, which had somehow catapulted itself into the air to intercept the missile.

The Joker hooted with laughter as the back end of it erupted into flame and it crash landed, slamming right through a concrete divider only to lay upside down on the other side. Jess had just a moment to be amused by this before the semi drove straight into an explosive cloud of fire and she was knocked off her feet by another collision.

* * *

When she regained consciousness a couple of seconds later, her head was swimming and she was only vaguely aware of the men around her, groaning at the force of that last blast. The semi had come to a halt and they were losing the armored car, which had made its escape ahead.

Buzzing with adrenaline in a surprisingly pleasant way, Jess stood up shakily and watched the Joker do the same, using the side of the doorway as a tool to facilitate this. He looked simply delighted, despite the fact they were losing ground on what remained of convoy and there was no sign that the driver was going to start doing his job again.

Jess smiled slowly at him as she tried to catch her breath, feeling something wet and warm trickling down her forehead. She reached up to feel a small, stinging cut there, and wiped the blood away.

The Joker approached her in two steps, also breathing heavily, his eyes exhilarated and his makeup runny.

He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her roughly towards him so that Jess only had half a second to think that she'd never been more attracted to anyone in her entire life before his mouth was on hers, fumbling and hot and demanding, violently kissing her with incredible enthusiasm borne of the energy coursing through his body. She knew how he felt. She was so wound up she was shaking, the rush of the last few minutes slamming into her and making her head spin.

Or was it his tongue that was making her head spin?

She'd never loved any taste as much as she loved the taste of him, especially like this. The kiss they were sharing now was one of the most intense and animated of her life. He pet her hair with shaky hands and held her body so close to his that she could feel his warmth through to her bones. He was hard and angular and exactlt the man he was supposed to be, the only man she could imagine wanting.

He bent her back slightly, shifting more of her weight into his hands and she wound her arms around his neck, silently begging him never again to ignore her like he had today while she bit his lips and licked the corners of his mouth, where the scars met his lips. The Joker's breath was going ragged and his mouth opened against hers to draw in huge shuddering breaths and let them out with little giggles before kissing her again.

When he broke away, both were breathless and the men around them looked sufficiently disturbed.

Still holding onto her, the Joker took a deep breath, looked around and suddenly dropped out of the cargo door, dragging Jess along with him. He walked up to the passenger's side door of the cab and jumped up. Jess followed, figuring she had been invited up front, and watched as the Joker sidled up to the recently deceased driver. Jess cringed at the corpse as the Joker giggled and made sing-song noises.

"Harvey, Harvey, Harvey Dent…" he muttered, and Jess couldn't help but laugh. He was sort of cute. "Oh, excuse me," the Joker said to the driver, popping open the door and starting to push the body out. "I wanna drive."

That was too much. Jess burst into laughter and slammed the passenger door as the Joker started up the semi and, glancing at her with that bemused expression he got whenever he thought she should be reacting differently than she did, drove off in the direction of the armored car.

They caught up to it in a startlingly quick time, though Jess supposed that didn't really surprise her. The car had to slowly wind its way around other vehicles along the bridge but the Joker, singing a horrific "la-la-la," simply slammed the semi into them, often swerving simply to do so. Most of the cars were empty, Jess saw. People weren't stupid. Why would you stick around in a tunnel while the sounds of explosions echoed behind you? Almost all the people with cars in this lane had quickly jumped out after coming upon yet another roadblock, and retreated behind the safety of walls or barriers to wait out the coming storm.

The armored car took an abrupt right hand turn and the Joker traced its movements swiftly, banging the rear into a support beam of the bridge. Jess erupted into laughter again, finding it came easier now that they were at a relatively mild phase of pursuit and aware that the half-pill she had taken before was still at work. The Joker glanced her way and bounced slightly before turning back to the road.

"I like this job," he declared. "I like it."

Jess smiled and sank back into her seat. Yes, she was beginning to see why.

After a few moments, Jess frowned and looked behind her to a suspiciously empty roadway.

"Hey, J," she said, looking to the Joker who was still fully concentrated on driving, his jaw a little clenched but his eyes enthusiastic. "What do you think happened to the Batman?" The Joker inhaled sharply as though the thought hadn't occurred to him yet, and stole a glance in his rearview mirror.

"I don't know, Jesster…" he said, his gloved hand stretching over to rest on her thigh. "Let's wait and see."

He squeezed her leg softly and brought his hand back to the wheel. Jess took a deep breath. She was getting way too eager to have him touch her and every time he did this burst of heat swept through her. She needed to settle down a bit.

He probably knew exactly the kind of affect he had on her, after all. She couldn't let him get all smug about that.

They were on the open city avenues now, speeding after the armored car, and when they took another turn Jess saw, high in the air, the lights of a police helicopter. She turned to the Joker, panicked, and noted that he, too, had caught sight of them. His face grew intense and determined, with a hint of excitement, but he did nothing for a moment, just kept driving.

"J, those are helicopters…"

"I _know_ that, Jesster."

"So what do we do?"

The Joker turned slowly to look at her, his eyes saying "Don't worry. Have I ever led you wrong before?" while his mouth said, "_You_ have never learned _patience_." Then he looked back to the road.

He let a few seconds slowly tick by while Jess's nails dug steadily deeper into the seat's upholstery. If they got within targeting distance of those copters, they would probably be blown into smithereens.

Finally, the Joker reached down and grabbed a walkie-talkie he had attached to his belt, bringing it to his mouth.

"Okay," he said into it, "rack 'em up. Rack 'em up, rack 'em up, rack 'em up."

The meaning of this eluded Jess but she stayed silent. The Joker was intense and focused and she didn't want to bring him out of that in case he missed something that could wind up killing them.

The helicopter swooped low, closer and closer, and Jess shot a panicked look at the Joker, cool as a cucumber, smiling slightly. The copter's spotlight was fixed almost directly on the semi, and it flew down, about to give the cops inside a chance to fire at will upon them…

Suddenly its landing gear was caught up on something invisible, and it spun around, flipping backwards in the air, its control lost. As it hurdled to earth, the tail crashed into a building, breaking rows of windows where it collided. Jess was so relieved that her mouth was hanging open as she watched the copter dive bomb the pavement, face planting right into the armored car, which drove through it shakily.

It skidded to the halt a yard away from where the semi was gaining speed down the thoroughfare and the Joker laughed hysterically at the spectacle, pleased his plan had worked. Jess looked up at the buildings as they raced by, catching a brief glimpse of some masked men scrambling down fire escapes, holding large guns.

Grappling guns, she figured upon seeing the two wires stretched between the buildings, upon which the helicopter had been caught.

"See, Jesster?" the Joker said between giggles. "_Nothing_ to worry about." He burst into more laughter.

Suddenly, from ahead of them in an alleyway, shot a burst of fire and debris. Speeding smoothly through it, skidding to a controlled stop just down the street of the semi, was a dark figure with a cape, riding a strange, tumbling motorcycle. Jess gasped, but the Joker gave it a name.

"Now _there's_ a Batman…" he said, his voice carrying an almost impressed tone.

The Batbike started suddenly, and the Caped Crusader began zooming towards them, head on.

"Ooh, you wanna play! Come on!" the Joker giggled.

Jess couldn't help but laugh, too. What did the Batman think he was going to do? It was like throwing a pebble at a giant.

"Come on…" the Joker whispered again.

The Batbike raced forward until the last possible moment, when suddenly it changed course and swerved under and around the semi. Jess frowned and looked back. Well, that had been pointless.

"He missed!" the Joker exclaimed, laughing.

Jess almost started to agree with him, until she saw the lamp posts along the street being ripped out of the ground as the truck passed them. There was something attached to the semi, nearly invisible… some kind of cable…

Jess's thoughts about the pebble and the giant rushed suddenly through her head, and she felt a burst of dread as she remembered the story of David and Goliath. At that moment, there was a horrible shuddering click and the truck lurched backwards suddenly, the momentum of the cab being forced to a halt by whatever the Batman had attached to it, but the back of the semi still rushing forward, lifting up and over the cab.

Jess could scarcely begin to believe this was happening as the semi flipped the long way, as easily as a toy truck. She screamed and grabbed onto back of the seat, the clamor of noise and grinding of metal becoming a deafening squeal until the truck slammed onto its head and everything went black.

* * *

She was pulled from the wreckage by Blake.

She woke up to the sound of a machine gun being fired and the Batman's bike revving up as she was sliding out the upside down passenger door. Blake righted her quickly and pulled her clear of the truck. She leaned into him as they stumbled to cover by a building. He was breathing heavily and his face was contorted into pain as he worked his right shoulder, which had obviously been jammed by the crash. After a moment, he looked down Jess and managed a grin.

"That," he said, "was a rush. Was it good for you, princess?"

Jess took a breath, mind racing back over what had happened. Then, with no hesitation, she nodded enthusiastically.

Another burst of machine gun rounds stole their attention back to the scene before them, even as they ducked into the shadows and relative cover of an alley.

The Joker, tall and thin and incredibly… Jess searched for a word… _bad_, was firing a machine gun in front of him, goading on the Batman, who was riding his bike at full tilt from the opposite end of the street. The Joker paced forward, mumbling words Jess couldn't hear, unmoved by the fact that he was being borne down upon by a rapidly moving motorcycle.

Jess, however, was having a heart attack watching the scene. She bit her lip and bounced up and down anxiously, clawing her nails into Blake's arm.

The Joker shot at the Batman again, mouthing words, and the Batman accelerated. Still talking, the Joker stopped, right in the middle of the street, his stance _daring_ the Batman to hit him. Jess wished he wouldn't be so brave. She understood the point he was making but what if the Batman _did _break his rule and kill him?

Where would she be then?

In her anxiety, Jess had started to cry, moaning "no, no" over and over, struggling to get away from Blake now, to somehow save the Joker.

Blake kept her back, whispering at her to shut it or she'd get them caught, please be quiet, Jess, because there's nothing she could do for him and he didn't want her taken to jail, they had to run, they had to be quiet, come on, Jess, please don't cry.

The Batbike ruthlessly drove straight towards the Joker, and in the last few seconds before a collision was imminent, Jess could hear what the Joker was saying.

"Come on, _hit me!_" he screamed as the bike rushed down upon him. "_Hit me!_"

With a tug, Jess broke away from Blake and took a step towards the Joker as the bike raced for him.

At the last second, the Batman swerved, his belief in honor outweighing his hate for the Joker. Jess sighed in relief as she was pulled back into the shadows by Blake. The bike skidded and the Joker turned to watch it. It was painfully evident that he was disappointed and he smacked his lips as the bike slammed into the stopped armored car and the Batman fell off, unconscious.

The Joker's men converged around the Batman's body slowly, those who weren't knocked out in the semi or hiding out like Blake and Jess. Jess wasn't exactly sure _why_ she felt it was prudent to hide, but she was listening to her gut on this one and her gut told her it wasn't safe to be anywhere near the Joker right now.

And so, they watched from a few yards away as one of the clowns--his red hair and familiar mask gave him away as Billy--leaned down and tried to pry away the Batman's mask. Even out cold, however, the Caped Crusader had a few more tricks up his sleeve. Jess gasped in dismay when a tazing shock leaped away from the mask as soon as Billy's fingers connected, and he was knocked back to the ground.

The Joker found Billy's pain only too amusing. He ran the last few steps towards the Batman and jumped over his body, laughing as he kicked Billy a few times and spit on him for good measure. A strange mix of a protective urge and the desire to laugh boiled through Jess as she listened to the Joker's crazed gibbering. It wasn't difficult to see how much the boss disliked Billy.

"Shit…" Blake whispered.

"What?"

"Let's go, Jess."

Blake's face was suddenly stern and Jess looked away from him just in time to see what he was talking about. The Joker had knelt down beside the Batman and, unbeknownst to him, a SWAT team member was sneaking up behind.

In a second, the SWAT member had a gun to his neck and the Joker groaned in frustration.

"Could you _please_ just give me a minute?" he asked.

The answer was no, apparently, and in a second the cop had him on his back on the pavement. Jess moaned lowly, trying to take a step after him but being, once again, thwarted by Blake.

"Jess, let's _go_!" His hand was tight around her arm now and he spared no strength pulling her down the alley.

Jess chanced a backwards glance just as the street went out of view. The Joker, it seemed, had forfeited and cops were surrounding the rest of the wreckage, arresting every Lucky Twenty member they could find. Jess let Blake pull her away as tears started to slide down her cheeks.

Why did her nights always seem to end in tears?


	26. Chapter 26

**Ohhhhh!! I'm so pleased with myself. I'm like a cat who just caught a big bird. This is my favorite thing I've ever written and I think you'll like it too!!! I worked my butt off, so PLEASE REVIEW!!! Can you get up to 400 reviews before next chapter? That's a challenge! **

*****AN concerns characterization. Read if you're interested!*****

**I like to try to answer any questions asked by people in reviews and on the last chapter, someone said they didn't understand how, if Billy was a criminal, he could be so righteous and emotional.**

**Truth be told, my friends, I lol'd.**

**Yes. I lol'd.**

**Isn't one of the major themes of this story "Criminals are people, too"? **

**Yeah. I got themes. Like I'm literary or something.**

**Now, I don't agree with criminals morally. But they still have feelings! Haha. Billy doesn't approve of murder and chaos. And keep in mind, Billy is a thief. He's not a hitman or some hardened murderer. He's pretty much just a klepto who started shop lifting when he was twelve, which led to bigger and bigger robberies. **

**(If you want to know the different jobs and what flavor of criminal each member of the Lucky Twenty is, PM me and I will gladly share.)**

**So. That's why he's emotional and sensitive and stuff. Also, he acts as a foil to the Joker. **

**Yep. I also got foils. I'm the next Charlotte freakin Bronte **

**(Oh my God. Timid girl moves "out of her world" to big old creepy place, is ignored by a vaguely deformed guy everyone but the bad guys hate, until he decides he likes her, there's a big passionate romance and she's all torn up about it, big fire, and at the end everyone wonders if he died… but he didn't! YCSSw/oL is ****Jane Eyre****!!)**

**I hope that answered your question, Anonymouse.*****

**Ok, listen to:**

**Heads Will Roll – Yeah Yeah Yeahs**

**Man – Yeah Yeah Yeahs**

**They're perfect. AND REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I love you all! Thanks for not giving up on me. Hope this makes you forgive me for taking SOOOOOO long!!**

**IMPORTANT: This chapter is rated M for drug use and... ahem... well. Sexual themes. :)**

* * *

Jess had never felt such dread upon entering the theater than she did upon entering it that night. For the first time since she had come to Gotham, home base was completely deserted upon arrival.

"They'll be fine, Jess," Blake whispered, hugging her close as they opened the back door with a squeal of metal. "The boss has a plan."

"No he doesn't," Jess whispered, gazing into the darkness of the hallway beyond. "He never has a plan."

Blake looked down at her, amused.

"You actually believe that?" he asked. "Maybe he just wants you to _think_ he doesn't. Hell, for all we know he could've _wanted_ to get caught. He plans and forecasts every minute of every day." Blake pulled Jess inside, where the comforting scent of the old playhouse enfolded them, and he sighed. "They'll be fine," he repeated.

Jess wasn't convinced.

"What about Billy?" she insisted. "Or Keith or Josh? Or Jackson? Max? They were around the semi." Tears started to roll again, thick and heavy as lead against her lashes, and Jess drew in a shuddering breath. "They could all have gotten caught! They could all be dead or dying somewhere, lying in a ditch, and we just _left_ them!" Blake pulled her close and she buried her face into his chest, sobbing. "We just _left_!"

"Listen," Blake whispered softly, "at the time, all that was on my mind was getting _you_ to safety, and I can tell you that every single man in that semi was conscious and breathing. No one is dead in a ditch, Jess. I know it. I can feel it."

For a moment, he sounded so confident that even she could almost feel it.

Comforted by his words, Jess let herself be led to the rec room and sat down on the couch, still anxiously awaiting word or news from any of the others. It didn't take long.

In less than ten minutes, the door to the rec room flew open to reveal Arnold and Boris, guns raised and stances predatory. Jess and Blake jumped up from their seats and raised their hands in surrender, each yelling phrases meant to calm but that probably only served to rile the two men up more, until they connected who Blake and Jess were and, slowly, lowered their weapons.

"We saw the light on under the door," Boris explained, leaning his machine gun against the wall and heading to the fridge to grab a beer. "We thought there were intruders. Cops or something."

"Pity the fool," Blake mumbled, rubbing his eyes and sitting back down.

Jess put a hand to her chest. She could understand the other men being on guard, but watching them come screaming through the door with cocked weapons had nearly given her a heart attack. She let go of the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"You're safe," she told Arnold vacantly, the remark more for her benefit than his.

Now that their initial scare was over, she was able to be almost unbearably relieved.

"You're safe," she whispered again, sitting back down on the couch. Blake slid an arm over her shoulder.

"Yeah," Arnold laughed.

Apart from a cut along his forehead, he looked just fine. Although Boris was slightly worse for wear—bruised and limping—the fact that they weren't dead was cause for ovation in itself. After the Batmobile had crushed the front bumper of their garbage truck, Jess hadn't known what to think.

"Where's White?" Blake asked.

"He was knocked out in the truck," Boris replied. "No sign of moving but he was breathing. He's a big guy. Couldn't have carried him, so we left him. Police cruisers were coming down the tunnel anyway. Every man for himself and all that."

"I'd say he's probably at the MCU with the boss," Arnold said.

"Is that where they took him?" Jess asked, jumping at the mention of the Joker. "Major Crimes?"

Arnold shrugged.

"I'm only guessing here, Jesster."

"MCU's the place to be tonight," someone said from the door, and the group collectively turned to see Laurence and Austin standing there, singed at the edges but otherwise fine as well.

"Oh my God," Jess sighed, another two weights lifting from her shoulders.

She stood up and walked swiftly to the two men, hugging them affectionately, trying to convey how pleased she was that they were alright. She made her rounds to Boris and Arnold, as well. Boris cringed when she wrapped her arms around him and she fussed over his bruised ribs.

While the love-fest was going on, Blake was asking questions.

"You say the MCU's the place to be?"

"Sounds like it," Laurence replied. "Austin and I hid for a while, listened to the pigs talk. They're taking the boss and most of the Twenty to the MCU. Lockin' us all away."

"Except for the five of us," Austin remarked, halfway between wanting to cry and wanting to laugh.

"Make that six," Keith said, walking in behind Laurence.

"Keith!" Jess shrieked excitedly, running over from Boris to bowl him over with an embrace. Another weight was lifted and Keith's relaxed, collected nature would be a blessing tonight. Jess started to cry again, unsure whether it was from relief or anxiety.

Keith looked down on her, crying into his shirt, and threw a panicked glance at Blake.

"She's been crying all night," Blake said, almost pityingly. "Just let her. You're not gonna be able to say anything to make it better."

"It _is_ better," Jess said between sobs. "It's five _times_ better, one for each of you." She looked up to Keith. "Did you see anyone else? Did anyone else get away?"

Keith shook his head grimly.

"I know I saw at least Tom, Jackson, Billy and Seth in cuffs," Austin remarked.

"Josh, Derek and Peter were arrested, too," Keith said. "And others. I was too far away to count but…" he sighed, "I dunno if anyone else is coming back tonight, Jesster."

"Oh, hey, Jess, you'll like this," Laurence said suddenly, grinning. Jess turned her head to look at him, still clinging to Keith. "Jim Gordon? That cop you said you met at the parade?"

"Uh huh?"

"I guess he's alive," Laurence said. "He was the one who got the boss."

Jess didn't comment upon this. She simply turned her face back into Keith's chest and hugged him closer, unable to stop crying. For what reason, she didn't know.

"Ain't she just a doll?" Laurence said affectionately.

"I'm getting her a beer," Blake replied.

* * *

No one else did come back for a long time. Jess spent three hours pacing back and forth across the rec room with the five other men, wanting their company but unable to keep from panicking every time she thought of what might be happening at the MCU.

How were they going to get out of this one?

What were the police doing with the Joker?

What were they doing with the rest of them?

Had the Joker even been thinking?

How could he have let this happen?

How could he do this to her?

What if he had been killed?

He'd almost been killed! He'd stood right in front of the Batman and screamed "_Hit me_!"

How could he be so selfish? Did he _know_ the ramifications of his death?!

What would the rest of them have done? What would _she_ have done?

How would they have gotten back to their universe?

He'd brought them here. He was the only one with any answers.

What would happen to them if he was gone?

Jess's tears were exhausted and she was heading towards anger. She grumbled and sat down next to Blake on the couch, wishing this waiting would come to an end.

"Blake," she said, turning to him, "do we have any pills?"

* * *

Jess ran a luxuriant hand through her hair, stretching her back while Blake sat next to her, idly lighting a joint. The pills had quickly been fetched, and the six of them were starting to reach towards that state where nothing mattered and nothing felt bad.

Jess's shoulder, which had started to throb painfully, was now once again a quiet shadow at the back of her head. She managed to smile but found that anxiety was still creeping in on her and she groaned.

"God, I just wish someone would tell us something," she muttered.

"Join the club!" Blake wheezed. "But we can't do anything right now, princess. Let it go."

"I can't, I can't, I can't." Jess shook her head, the following vibrations buzzing pleasantly through her skull. "I can't let him go."

Blake regarded her silently, a little disapprovingly. Then, suddenly, he stood up and placed himself in front of her.

"You're really hung up on him, aren't you?"

Jess giggled, pretending not to understand.

"Who?"

"The boss," Blake said, blunt as usual. "You're _really_ into him?"

Jess smiled and leaned back against the sofa. She took a deep breath as the pill took her away from caring what anyone thought.

"I am," she conceded, "and there's no reason, so don't start asking why. I can't explain. Maybe there are too many reasons."

"Watching you kiss him is weird," said Austin from across the room. "I mean, really disturbing. Stephen King shit."

Jess burst into giggles, throwing her head back and just laughing.

"Thanks," she managed. "That's really kind of you."

"I don't mean anything by it," Austin chuckled. "It's just, you know, he's the fucking Joker, right? You don't see his kind of person get all closed-eyed, tongue-out, touchy-feely with some girl very often. You just don't."

"He's not touchy-feely," Jess burbled. "He's never even close to touchy-feely."

"I don't get how you can do it," Laurence put in from the kitchenette.

Jess took a deep breath.

"Neither can I sometimes," she answered honestly. Suddenly, tears were back. "Guys, I don't know what I'm gonna do without him."

Only under the influence could she ever have admitted something like that. As it was, the amount of understanding the men offered was incredible. Not one of them scoffed or said something scathing. Instead, they all kind of looked at each other, their eyes conveying that they sympathized, if not empathized, with what she had said. Tears rolled down Jess's cheeks.

"I hate feeling like this," she said. "I'm high and I still feel awful. I want them to come back."

"I know what you need," Boris said.

He left the room for a moment, apparently off to fetch something. When he came back, he had a little black case in his hand, out of which he pulled a syringe, already filled with some sort of clear liquid. Jess regarded it warily.

"This will make you feel excellent, Jesster. For a few hours, at least. Hardly any after-effects, too. Some kind of new shit, found only in the comic-verse."

"What is it?"

"Do you wanna know?"

"Not really. Where'd you get it?"

The men glanced at each other, smiling.

"The boss knows a lot of people," Blake said.

Jess bit her lip, still looking warily at the needle. She'd never done an intravenous drug before…

But, hey. Technically the stuff wasn't even real. It was a fictional drug in a fictional world.

"What the hell," she said aloud. "First time for everything, right?"

The tourniquet was applied, the vial was primed, a new, sterile needle was taken from a packet and placed on the syringe.

When the liquid first rushed into Jess's bloodstream from the puncture point on her right, inner arm it felt like ice water, akin to an IV drip at the hospital. Blake, who had done the actual injecting, watched her carefully, kneeling on the ground in front of her. Jess untied the band from around her upper arm and leaned back slowly, trying to decide what she felt.

Euphoria hit her suddenly and she smiled.

"Oh my," she said, floating about three inches above the couch. "Oh my."

The men laughed and got busy shooting up themselves.

* * *

There was no time anymore. There was no waiting. Jess hovered and flew, laughing with the men, so glad not to be crying that it only made her laugh harder.

Hours passed. The night blazed away in a rush of loud music and shifting lights. There was no time to reflect, no time to judge or hope or wonder. Jess was too far gone this time, scarily far gone, and if she hadn't trusted the men with her as much as she did, she might have been in serious trouble.

But there would be time to be angry at herself in the morning.

All in all, the high was not a long one. Four a.m. rolled around, the lights beyond the windows grew a little brighter with the onset of dawn, and Jess started to be able to reflect and ponder again

It was when her thoughts returned almost fully that the Joker chose to make his arrival back at the theater.

* * *

There was a huge commotion near the theater's entrance. Jess spun around from where she'd been lounging on the couch with Blake and Keith, laughing at some joke she could no longer remember. She stood up and unthinkingly tripped towards the door to the rec room, ignoring the half-hearted warnings from the men with her that she should be careful, it could be the police, come back.

It wasn't the police, though. She knew that. There were many, many voices and most of them were familiar.

Jess started to laugh breathlessly as she stumbled down the hall, towards where the noises of the gathering were coming from. She came upon Drew first, looking tired and worn but extremely happy to be home.

"Jess!" he croaked, and Jess threw herself upon him with a hug.

"Are we all here?" she said. "Everyone's here? Everyone's alive?"

"Everyone who was at the jail got home safe," Drew replied, giving her an affectionate squeeze, "with the exception of White… And about a dozen cops…"

But Jess was off, dancing away from him to greet the others. She didn't really care about White's fate, didn't care about the cops. She was so happy she could faint that they had all survived.

How the hell had they all survived?!

She laughed and hugged and kissed every person who came through that door.

Drew was right. All accounted for, all safe—with the exception of a broken bone or two.

Jess had just spotted Billy, speaking animatedly with Logan, and was about to make her way to him, to beg for forgiveness and tell him she loved him and hoped he could somehow take her back, when she was grabbed roughly around the upper arm.

"You're in a _state_…"

How could she have forgotten?!

Jess turned around, beaming, to look at the Joker, dressed only in slacks, suspenders and a dress shirt, most of the makeup gone from his face, his hair wet and greasy and tangled. Her heart leapt. He was smiling, genuinely smiling like his plans had gone exactly how he wanted, and he smelled like explosives and smoke.

Her soul filled at the sight of him. Jess had never been in love and she wasn't sure this feeling was exactly that, but it was the only way to describe the reaction she had to him.

This was so the opposite of okay.

"J…"

"Honey, I'm home," he replied dryly.

There was no sense of comfort or happiness to be here with him, as there were with the other men, but Jess could tell he was glad to be back. He looked exhausted but invigorated and mischievously pleased with himself.

"Thank God!" Jess said with a passion she usually would have kept from him.

She hugged him around his waist, making him stumble a little and look around, arms hovering over her, bemused by her actions once more.

Jess thought the Joker just didn't understand girls.

"Come with me," the Joker muttered, shoving her off after a few moments.

He really didn't like displays of tenderness, but Jess thought he should just get used to them. If he was really so in tune with the human psyche as he said he was, he should know that someone in her position would start to feel actual emotions towards him.

Instead of telling him this, Jess grabbed his hand as he started to walk off down the halls. He made no effort to hold her hand back, but he didn't shake out of her grasp. If anything, he looked a little resigned.

Jess didn't let his lack of feeling towards her bother her. He'd said enough to let her know he didn't think she was worthless. For now, that was okay. She was sure in the future she'd want more from him, and maybe she'd get more, but for now it was fine like it was. At least she got any part of him.

* * *

He had pulled her inside of the greenroom and locked the door in a matter of moments. Jess stared at him for a few seconds, trying to decide what kind of mood he was in.

Giddy, first and foremost, that was easy to see, but there was something darker in his eyes as well. He was pleased at the success of the night, pleased that he had done what he'd done and gotten away, but there was also something, some thought, that was plaguing him.

"Too bad you missed out on the _after_ party, Jesster," was the first thing he said.

Jess smiled and leaned back against the door, watching as he paced the room, ran a hand through his wet, stringy hair, and grabbed a bottle of Vodka, tilting it against his mouth to take a large swig.

"I'm actually sort of glad I did miss out," Jess said honestly. "Can you imagine me in jail? I wouldn't have been able to keep it together for more than a few minutes."

The Joker turned to look at her as though confused, hunching his shoulders, craning his neck towards her to scrutinize her face further.

"You think so?" he asked, his mouth twitching before he looked away, giggling.

Jess frowned, not sure whether or not he was making fun of her.

"You sure missed one _hell_ of a party, though," he went on. "Just… _explosive_." He giggled at whatever little joke was floating around in his skull.

Jess took the bait.

"What exactly happened?"

The Joker turned to stare at her, smiling, before he sat down on the couch. He made no request that she join him, but Jess left her spot by the door in any case and sat down next to him.

"We were, uh… _escorted_ to the MCU." The Joker wheezed a laugh. "Threats were _made_, mostly against the boys and, uh, yours _truly_. I was taken to the interrogation room," he laughed again, "to wait for the _commissioner_."

"Who's that?"

"Turns out, we didn't kill the Batman's personal little buddy after all…" he replied, his tone carrying the hints of danger. Jess leaned away from him warily, but after a moment, when he didn't make a move against her, she relaxed. "Slight miscalculation, _but_…" He shrugged.

"_Gordon's_ the new police commissioner?" Jess asked, laughing slightly.

Well. Good for him.

She'd never say that aloud of course. She'd been charmed by Gordon's fatherly nature but if the Joker knew of her affection for him, however slight, she couldn't see it ending well.

"_That's_ not the point of the _story_," the Joker said impatiently. "It's about who came along _after _Commissioner Gordon."

Jess gasped, immediately guessing but not quite believing it.

"The Batman?" she whispered.

The Joker grinned and nodded.

Suddenly, a cold dread washed over Jess as she looked at the man next to her, really examining him for the first time this evening. He was bruised and bashed and the fresh cuts still dripped blood. She could see a place on stomach where scarlet had seeped through his shirt and his right hand looked stiff and swollen. There was an enormous bruise forming along his brow line, barely concealed by the makeup, and a cut on his head. She could see dried blood in his hair.

"What'd he do to you?" Jess whispered, scooting closer to try to inspect him, wanting to sooth his burns and wipe away the blood and bandage the cuts.

He wasn't having it, however. As soon as she reached for him he grabbed her wrists and threw them aside before standing up, ignoring the question.

"_That's_ right, Jesster," he said, grinning. "The _Batman_ paid me a little visit. We talked, had coffee… I sent him on a little _goose _chase… We'll have to see how that ended up in the _morning_…"

He had started to revert to simply talking to himself, never mind telling her the rest of the events.

Jess found she didn't care. Relief was giving way to abrupt anger. She wasn't sure who she felt it for—Batman, the Joker, Billy—but it was there and it was strong.

"You put yourself in a lot of danger tonight," she said quietly.

The Joker turned to look at her suddenly, eyebrows raised as though he'd forgotten she was there.

"Hm?"

"I just mean…" Jess took a deep breath and looked down, not sure that it was smart for her to be feeling so mad. She couldn't help it, however. When next she raised her head to look at him, her eyes were glistening with new tears and her eyebrows were furrowed. "You just put yourself right in the way of everything, don't you?"

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no, Jesster," the Joker replied. "_You_ would be the one doing that. _Constantly_."

Jess stood up, fury growing.

"_I'm_ not the one who screamed at a man on a motorcycle to hit and kill me!"

The Joker sighed.

"Don't you _get it_ yet, Jesster?" he asked.

Jess shook her head.

"No," she said. "No, somehow I don't _understand_ your death wish."

The Joker was laughing at her by this time, howls of mirth that echoed around the greenroom. Jess clenched her hands into fists, feeling hot and cold at once.

"It's not a _death_ wish!" the Joker exclaimed in broken laughter. He took a deep breath and managed to calm himself a little. "See, the Batman has this _rule_. One. Single. Rule. And if he kills me…" the Joker's voice jumped an octave as he giggled, "he'll be breaking his _one rule_. Now, I have to see that happen, Jesster. I _really_ have to."

"No!" Jess said. "You're not gonna go chasing death!"

"That's _not_ what this is _about_…" The Joker closed his eyes, starting to get irritated with her lack of understanding. "It's about breaking _him_."

"You think I _care_?!" Jess cried, anger mounting as more tears rolled down her face. Her heart was plummeting more than she cared to admit at the thought of the Joker's death. She knew she couldn't see that happen. "Screw the Batman, J! I don't give a shit whether he's broken or whole! I just don't want to see… I just…" Jess shook her head, fighting the tears. "I don't _care_ about him!"

"Oh, _you_ might not," the Joker said quietly, "but, y'know, _I _do. And none of your little…" he toyed with the invisible word in the air in front of him, "_opinions_ are gonna make _me _feel different."

That was too much. How could he care so little how she felt? How could he possibly think his actions were okay?

"You almost got yourself killed tonight, you bastard!" Jess screamed at him. She started to sob, much harder than she'd been crying before. "I almost lost you tonight, J! What would I have done if I had lost you?!"

"That, uh… That wouldn't exactly have been my problem, would it, Jesster?"

Jess's eyes locked onto his as he said it, and she saw something there that made her fly past the breaking point: Amusement.

More than amusement: The unbridled desire to laugh.

More than that: S_atisfaction_, like she was reacting just as he wanted her to.

At that point, white hot rage boiled through Jess's veins and she let out a scream of some animalistic fury, a sound she'd certainly never heard escape her own throat. Before she really knew what she was doing, she'd attacked him, ripping into him, clawing and slapping and punching and kicking with a ferocity she hadn't before known she possessed.

He started off laughing, his giggles of amusement rising past her screams of anger. Tears flooded her red-edged eyes and she couldn't see, could only hear his giggles and feel the connection of each assault she launched. She conveniently forgot about any wounds he might be harboring; he deserved every slap and scrape he received from her.

It was when a hard punch connected with his jaw that his laughter faded. Suddenly, he was no longer entertained. He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her roughly away with a snarl, but Jess was not to be deterred this time. She raced at him immediately, aiming another swing at his now furious face, her hand formed into a claw so that her long nails might leave marks on his skin.

He caught her wrist in one strong hand and, using her own momentum against her, swung her around so that she was facing away from him. She yelled out in pain as he violently twisted her arm behind her back and wrenched her against him. Their bodies connected solidly, her shoulder blades against his chest, and Jess continued to try to pull away, screaming nonsensical insults at him, trying to convey just how much she, at this moment, despised him and everything he stood for.

Then, all of a sudden and definitely without her expectation, Jess felt the Joker rip down the zipper of her dress. The folds of fabric parted and she shivered as a cool breeze crossed over her now exposed back. She screech in anger and attempted once again to pull away from him, unable to believe that had just happened, but the hand that was not still holding tightly to her arm flew up suddenly and roughly cupped her chin, forcing her to turn her head to the side so that, when he leaned forward, their lips met roughly.

Jess struggled to pull away, tried to scream at him, slap him, do _something_, but every time she got close, he simply silenced her with his mouth again.

He was rough, hot, demanding, and his fingers were leaving bruises on her face while his tongue did indecent things to her mouth. After a moment, Jess found herself kissing him back, the fire in her only increasing the passion of their embrace. She'd never been so angry with someone in her entire life.

She'd also never been so turned on by someone.

When he felt her start to move her lips in time with his, his hands fell away from her wrist and chin and ran down to slide along the skin of her back, raising goose bumps. He grabbed her hips from inside the unzipped dress and pulled her roughly back against him again before doing what he could to remove the rest of her costume.

When had she given up _this_ fight?

For the life of her, Jess had no recollection of doing so.

They made their way to the couch, though Jess wasn't sure how it had been accomplished. She felt the rough fabric of it against her bare frame as he pushed her down to sit on it and leaned over her above it. His mouth hardly left hers, pausing only at intervals to inhale huge gasps of breath when she did something he liked.

Jess pushed down his suspender straps and opened her eyes to look at the man she was kissing, the man whose hands were running all over her body, without pattern or prejudice, exploring every single inch of her. Faded white greasepaint, smeared black around his eyes, a too-red mouth, green hair…

On paper, it never sounded attractive, but Jess pushed a hand through his curling, off-colored locks, thinking that she couldn't imagine wanting to do this with anyone else. Ever again.

She'd never felt this way about any guy she'd been with.

The Joker's hands were impatient, shaking but somehow very sure, pushing away any scrap of clothing he felt got in the way. Jess decided his own undress needed to catch up and pulled up on his shirt, freeing it from the confines of his waistband and slowly unbuttoning the buttons. He reached up to help with rapidly quivering hands.

"In a hurry?" Jess asked, her voice rough and unsteady.

The Joker didn't respond. He simply pushed her hard to the side so that she was lying down lengthwise on the sofa and settled on top of her, resuming his kissing and caressing.

There was no tenderness where there might have been, but he touched her with a strange reverence, as though secretly wanting to dwell in every part of her. Jess moaned loudly as his hands, streaks of fire, swept along her, feeling and molding and possessing.

There was no thought after that, no words and certainly no rationality. She was swept up in his movement and being, fire feeding fire, like attracting like. Jess was caught in a world of darkness and passion and lust and flame and she only felt the world growing around her, hoping it would never stop.

They didn't lie or fight or tease. There was no desire to outdo the other, no questions of whether or not it was right or requests for better treatment. Everything that happened was true and raw.

He was pushy, needy, demanding and rough. There was no consideration for her, but there also seemed to be no consideration for him. It was as if he was simply acting, doing what he wanted to do and letting her do as she pleased as well.

Independent action, yet when the movements complimented each other the result was explosive.

His voice, when he spoke, was hushed, cracked, shaking with exhilaration. He only said bits of words, parts of phrases meant to inspire responses on her part, things like "_Just… that_…" "_Perfect_…" "_Move…" "Jesus Christ… Right… Jess…_"

She didn't hear him call her Jesster. Not once.

His mouth replaced his hands along her body. Jess wondered vaguely where she'd find smears of paint tomorrow but she was caught up in examining him, his now bare torso.

He was better than she'd expected, somehow: more definition, more build, yet still thin and lithe as a jaguar. His skin was peppered with scars, cuts, knicks and burns, more burns than she could have thought, shiny and smooth to the touch.

Jess had been right earlier; there was a fresh cut right along his hipbone, no longer bleeding but still painful looking. When her hand brushed across it, grasping at his hips as their bodies collided, he let out a groan of complaint but, ever contrary, reached down and forced her palm right over it, making her press the wound and cause him pain.

He seemed to like it, though. It certainly spurred him on. His pace quickened, decisions made and actions carried out before Jess had time to process them.

She always seemed to be half a step behind him, always wondering at what he did and how he'd come up with it. None of what he did was done for her benefit but Jess found, if every time was going to be like this, she could definitely live with that.

As it was, he was incredible.

His hands knew what to do, and where. Jess had thought multiple times how good he was, wondered how often he did this before she'd come along. She was starting to think, however, that it had been a long time for him, the way he gasped and grunted and clenched his teeth when she so much as touched him.

She loved to watch him. Her eyes flew open at every possible moment, just to see how his face looked.

His makeup was swiftly being removed by sweat and friction and when he looked down at her she could see the man beneath the clown, could only find human in his open mouth and intense eyes.

She'd never seen emotion register on his face like she did tonight. Be it examining her with a look of wonder mixed with self-conceit--as though he was just proud of himself--or gazing, starry eyed, at the wall opposite, mouth moving while his body did, to form words but never make a sound.

She loved that, with a mere flick of her fingers or wriggle of her hips, she could make him groan, a deep, throaty, animal sound, sexier than she could find words for. It was a power she'd never weilded before, over the Joker himself.

At one point, they were standing--though Jess didn't remember when they'd assumed the position--and she'd done something to make his already shaky legs buckle. She fell with him, holding him, proud of herself even as his rough hands struggled to find control over her instead.

Truly, she was bringing a god to his knees.

Every sense was assaulted by him, every nerve hit and thought destroyed. Time rushed on in a blaze of sweat and fire and his constant breath, of his lips and teeth and tongue and body; pushing, pulling, attracting and repulsing, never the same but achingly familiar. She was drowning in him, burning in him, hoping she'd never escape, _knowing_ she wouldn't.

He made her his, laid claim to something he'd wanted for so long and she, in her way, did the same.

They altered each other permanently and found it only increased appeal.

They were exactly the same, one person.

Jess wondered how she'd ever thought she could fight it.

* * *

When the final shuddering wave had passed, when their bodies hummed with pleasant energy and the storm subsided, they fell against each other to rest.

They'd tumbled to the ground at some point, and a blanket was tangled between them, but no effort was made to fix a bed. He held her close, almost painfully close, and stared silently up at the ceiling. Jess didn't have the energy to ask what he was thinking and they both preferred it that way.

She relaxed against him, loving him, loving the feel of his warm skin against hers.

There on the ground, the Joker's arm draped over her, more content and more tired than she'd been in a long time, Jess drifted off to sleep.

* * *

**There it is! Please review!!! Honestly, tell me EXACTLY what you think!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Remember, 400 reviews is your goal! :)**


	27. Chapter 27

**Hey there! I am soooo sorry this took so long (I'm always saying that, I know, but it doesn't change the fact that I am) but I have a really good excuse.**

**College. **

**Yes. College. Moving in and packing up and registering and getting accustomed... Left me with NO time. So I hope I satisfied well enough last chap to earn a LITTLE of your forgiveness...**

**Having said that, I'm glad you all like it!! GREAT JOB with the challenge!! You made 400 reviews seem easy. I really really really appreciate those of you who take time to let me know how you feel. In fact, I really really appreciate you just for reading! Thank you so much.**

**I hope you like this. The end is coming upon us swiftly and I plan to leave you satisfied but begging for more... ;) **

**Love you all!!**

* * *

When Jess woke up, the first thing she noted was that she was naked.

The second was that she was alone, cold, and had apparently been sleeping on the ground.

She sat up, holding the threadbare blanket she was entangled in to her chest, and looked blearily around. She hadn't been moved from where she'd fallen asleep with him in the greenroom; indeed, she hadn't even been moved up to the couch. Jess groaned and stretched. Her back ached horribly, probably from sleeping on the hard ground.

Jess smiled. She was sure the incredible sex last night hadn't helped, either.

Just the thought of what had happened only hours ago made her flush and grin like an idiot. It had been so perfect, so completely _him_: not in the least tender but still intensely exciting and, most of all, satisfying. Hot. Crazy. Wild. Extreme. Rough. Passionate.

Yes, sex with the Joker certainly mirrored the Joker himself.

Jess closed her eyes and took a deep breath, just to force herself to indulge in all of her senses on this most perfect of afternoons (it was two p.m. by the clock on the microwave in the corner). It smelled thick and heavy in here, like hot breath and ashes and, well, sex. The blanket she held, she noticed for the first time, was damp with sweat and the room at large was all but sweltering. He hadn't opened a window or door to let a clearing breeze in.

It was the fourth or fifth time she'd thought about him since she'd woken up, but it was only now that she thought to wonder where he was.

He wasn't in the greenroom, she saw, looking around, though that was hardly surprising. She hadn't really expected him to wait for her to wake up. Jess doubted whether he'd kept still for long after she'd lost consciousness, much less fallen asleep himself—although, she had to admit sleeping with the Joker was an attractive idea, if only for the sweetness it would imply. Of course he wouldn't give that to her. No, he'd probably disentangled himself from her shortly after he'd heard her breathing go steady and got up to pace around the room, muttering to himself. He'd probably even stared at her sleeping form with furrowed eyebrows, some part of his broken psyche wondering if he should kill her after all.

But he'd let her sleep, which, in and of itself, made Jess smile.

Articles of clothing, now that Jess looked, were scattered around the room, further from the couch or where she'd woken up than she could have thought possible. She caught sight of her dress, balled up on the windowsill, and wondered how the hell it had gotten there.

Truth be told, the more she thought about last night, the less she could remember, at least before she'd gone into the greenroom. She could only recall scattered bits and pieces from the truck chase, all the while knowing how the story went, and coming back to the theater was a haze of pot and ecstasy and whatever.

Jess looked down at her right arm, on the inner elbow.

Great. Her first track mark. _Just_ peachy.

She could have punched herself at that moment. How could she have been so utterly _stupid_?! Had she not sobered up before the Joker came home, if she'd had sex with him while she was high, she would never have been able to forgive herself.

Thank God she remembered _that_ part of last night. Every single searing second.

Jess glanced down at her body and smiled when she saw the streaks of his greasepaint transferred there, scattered from her shoulders to her inner thighs.

Was it possible to _be_ more satisfied?

Jess stood up, her injured shoulder and back complaining as she did so, and stretched tentatively, wrapping the blanket around herself. Getting back into her dirty, stained and ripped dress did not seem appealing, but what could she possibly do? Go out into the halls wrapped only in a thin, moth eaten blanket?

That just seemed in bad taste. Most of the men were already upset over her relationship with the Joker, and practically showing off that she had slept with him would only raise conflict and lower their respect for her.

Jess blanched suddenly as she started to pull the dress up over her hips.

Billy.

Oh God, Billy could never find out about this. He'd never forgive her, and he'd go after the Joker himself, which meant no one else could know, either.

It felt like high school all over again; keeping details of one's relationships secret just to avoid drama seemed a little childish. But it was for the best.

Jess reached back and zipped up her dress, then grabbed the rest of her clothes as quickly as possible and, smoothing down her tousled hair, walked out into the halls.

* * *

There was a group of men out there.

Jess sighed.

Of _course_ there was.

They spotted her before she had the chance to sprint in the opposite direction and called "Jesster!" in voices that suggested that they were blissfully unaware of her incredible nighttime escapades.

"Hey guys," she said, turning to face them, startled at how hoarse and tired her voice sounded.

There were five or six standing there, among them Keith, Andrew and—oh, God, please, no—Billy.

He looked no happier to see her today than he had yesterday, and made eye contact only with the floor as she approached them, his sour expression contrasting the amiable smiles the rest of the guys wore. Jess's spirits lifted only slightly when she noticed the lack of suspicion from any of the men.

"How are you feeling on this fine Saturday afternoon?" Keith asked her graciously as she was folded into their circle. She cast a wary glance at Billy, but he remained sulkily silent.

"Great!" she said, surprised to find it was true. She ached, but she felt awesome. "A little tired from last night," she cringed inwardly, hoping they assumed she only meant the truck chase, "but otherwise, I feel fantastic. I need a shower…"

"We all need one," Drew said conversationally. "We just came back from a job with the boss, talkin' with the Russian guys. Getting their loyalty." He laughed. "It wasn't easy, but we made one hell of an impression. We're filthy. As it is, the guy's locker room is completely full. We were just weighing the pros and cons of encroaching on your privacy and using the girl's…"

"What were you doing in the greenroom, Jess?" Billy asked suddenly, interrupting Drew's sentence. He was unexpectedly scrutinizing her from head to toe, pure skepticism in his eyes, coupled with a sort of nastiness she'd never seen in him before.

As it was, the question threw her completely off guard and before she could help herself, she was beet red and stuttering "uh… um… uh…"

Smooth, Jess. Very smooth.

"Nothing," she finally got out. "Just seeing if… you know… if J was in."

"Oh yeah?" Billy said, the model of incredulity. "Didn't even brush your hair or change? You just go straight to the Joker when you wake up?" He looked down to the bundle of her undergarments she held in her arms—she had simply thrown the dress on, assuming she wouldn't be stopped on the way to her room. "Carrying around your clothes, too. Does he have a secret washing machine in there?"

He was just being mean now and Jess was looking like the bad guy, having been caught in a lie. She glared at Billy, amazed at what jealousy had done to him.

She suddenly got very, _very_ angry.

"You wanna know what I was doing in there?" Jess said, leaning forward, a look of pure spite on her face.

"Yeah, Jesster," Billy spat. "Tell us all about it."

Jess glanced around. The rest of the men looked stunned at how Billy was speaking, and increasingly uncomfortable by the second. Keith couldn't make eye contact and Austin looked like he wanted to fade away into the shadows.

"Fine," she snapped back. "It's not going to be a secret for long, not with what you're insinuating. And I guess the rumors you'll spread would be worse than the truth, in any case. So here it is, Billy. Straight from my lips to your ears." Jess straightened up, looked right into Billy's eyes, and smiled. "I slept with the Joker," she said, "and, knowing what I know now, I'd choose him over you any day."

Something snapped in him then; she watched it happen. He had lowered his eyes to the ground during her speech, almost passively, but as her last syllable escaped her lips, his eyes flicked up to stare into hers, filled with such an animal rage that she actually flinched away for a second.

But then he was on her, his actions so swift and violent she was actually reminded of the Joker for a moment. His good hand, the one that wasn't still in the sling, had closed around her throat and he'd driven her back into the wall, eyes burning with a hateful fire.

The other men started to talk then, in raised voices, telling him to cut it out, back off and leave her the hell alone. They were hesitant to raise a hand against him however, even in defense of Jess, because Billy was well-liked and not one of them wanted to choose sides here.

Billy was ignoring them. He pinned Jess against the wall with all his weight and put his face right up against hers, obviously past the point of caring whether or not he did harm. Jess stared at him, angry and betrayed, as he made eye contact and spoke:

"How's this?" His grip tightened on her throat and she struggled against him to no avail. "Is this the kind of thing you like? You want your man to be all rough and angry? You want him to have no respect for you?" He pushed her back into the wall and her head smacked against it, making her eyes water. "Well, here it is, _Jesster_. Like me better_ now_?"

There was not a speck of warmth in his eyes, and had it not been for the fact that she knew the other men would not let Billy hurt her—even now she still couldn't quite believe she had to be worried about Billy hurting _her_—she would have been seriously afraid. She never had any idea he had this kind of rage in him.

It pissed her off, but it also made her sorry. She wished she could have kept it so that she never saw this side of him.

"No," she said, mustering all the strength she could and thinking of the only thing she knew would really get to him. "Let's face it, you just can't pull it off the way J can."

Billy growled—yes, _Billy_ growled—and took his hand away from her throat.

It happened really fast. One second, Jess was taking a deep breath and regaining oxygen. Then next, she was on the ground, her face red and hurting, and the men were on Billy, wrestling him to the floor.

Jess stood up, such an intense anger coursing through her that she could hardly even feel the spot on her face where Billy had hit her. She looked down at the heap of men atop the struggling Billy and sneered. The fury was so consuming that there was no room for sadness in her heart that their friendship was ending like this, though she knew there would be later. Instead, when given the opportunity, Jess aimed a kick at Billy's gut, knocking the wind from him.

The men containing Billy roared at her to just back away, be the bigger person here, and Jess did take a step back from the gasping man on the ground.

"You're _nothing_ compared to him," she said quietly, "and you never will be." She started to turn away, but found more words bubbling up from her throat. "You were wrong, though," she said. "He respects me. In his way, he respects me. And that's the difference between you and him. You could never understand the way he thinks about me, much less think that way yourself. _That's_ what I like about him, Billy. He looks at me in a way no one else has ever looked at me before. You'll never look at me that way."

She turned and stomped off, needing more than anything a cleansing shower. She'd never before felt such an odd mix of pride, victory, sadness, anger and regret.

But the question was, if given the chance to do it all over, would she change anything?

* * *

Jess stayed in the shower for a long time, refusing to allow Billy to ruin last night for her. Now that she was alone, she was able to reflect on what a strong experience it had been. She felt she'd reached the Joker last night at a level that she'd never expected she would reach. She saw into him as far as she ever would, and at times she was sure he'd let himself tell her just how much she meant to him, even if he never meant to. It was rewarding, oddly enough.

Washing herself just seemed to get better every time she did it, here in Gotham at least. The dirt and sweat from yesterday swirled sluggishly down the drain, coupled with bright splashes of greasepaint in red and white. Jess relished having to scrub off some of the paint marks the Joker had left on her, each one bringing back a certain memory of a kiss or a bite, which brought back more memories of his strong, scorching hands and the powerful solidity of his body. It was incredible how thoughts of him overrode her, uprooted all the pain she was feeling and burned it away. Billy was once again an afterthought, one she only dwelled upon when she felt the tender skin around her neck where he'd tried to choke her or her swelling cheekbone, a souvenir from his slap.

The Joker never touched her face to leave marks, she realized. It was as if he was protecting the part of her that really identified who she was. Billy had had no such restraint, which only went to prove that, if Billy was _less_ restrained than the Joker, her boss had a lot more sanity about him than he wanted to show.

He calculated the marks on her body. Billy simply acted in anger.

Over the rush of water, Jess heard the door to the locker room slam open and she quickly rinsed the soap from her hair, wondering if one of the men had simply decided to use this shower instead of waiting for the others to finish in the men's bathroom.

"Hey, I'm still in here!" she called, making sure the curtain was fully pulled to block the stall. No reply came, but she heard someone moving about out there. Sighing, Jess shut off the water and reached out to grab the towel she'd hung on the wall, wrapping it firmly around herself.

"Will you get out of here until I'm in at least a robe?" she asked loudly, once again receiving no reply. She groaned and threw the curtain open, stepping out to confront the interloper head on.

"If you're here to ask about Billy, you're wasting your ti--"

The Joker leaned silently against a sink, watching her come from her stall with dark eyes. The rest of Jess's words faded into thin air.

He'd cleaned up, too, which was sort of strange to her. He was still dressed in his dirty purple suit but his hair looked, if not freshly washed, at least less greasy than it had last night, and his makeup was reapplied rather neatly. His mouth, however, was set and grim and angry, and his hands shook as he pulled one through his hair and flashed her a vicious grin. Suddenly worried about what his mood entailed, Jess regarded him warily.

"Oh, sorry J," she said. "I didn't know it was you."

"Rude of me not to _knock_," he replied, voice carefully, dangerously soft. "Just came to see if the, uh, word about _town_ was true." His eyes flicked over her throat and face and he straightened up, slowly walking towards her, his hands waving almost casually to emphasize his words. "Not hard to see, though, that it _is_."

Jess felt her cheekbone, freshly bruising, and decided she was mad enough at Billy not to lie for him.

"Isn't it usually?" she said, not without bitterness. "Those guys _really_ need to stop talking about me."

The Joker was at her in a second, grabbing her chin roughly to examine the damage Billy had done, fingers flicking at her throat, brushing her wet hair away to really look. He leaned back after a moment and gave her what could only be described as _that_ look.

"Am I _really_ wasting my time here, Jesster?" he said.

"No," she whispered. The heat in the bathroom, coupled with the fact that she was covered only in a towel and very, very close to him, was making it hard to think clearly. She didn't want to talk, especially not about Billy. She wanted the Joker to make it go away.

Subtly, almost subconsciously, Jess sidled closer to him.

As always, this did not escape his notice. Managing a half-smile, he backed away a little, just to be cruel. Just for the hell of it.

"What'd you say _this_ time? Hm?" he asked, pinching her bruised cheek. Jess flinched away, flushing simultaneously, not wanting to admit to defending him, much less telling him she'd called him better than Billy. Of course, she didn't know why it bothered her so much. She'd recently had sex with the man. He had to know her opinion of him was relatively high.

It was such an odd dynamic. She'd never experienced something like it before.

"He was just ready to fight," she told him instead. "It's been a long while coming." The Joker's face grew grim again.

"A _long_ while coming?" he asked, looking as though he simply didn't believe a word of it. "Not much of a defense... You're always _defending_ him, Jesster. It gets so _boring_."

"I don't mean to…"

"Of _course_ you do, Jesster," he said. "Of course you do. Y'see, that's something _I_ like about you. You're always _so_…" he toyed with an invisible word in the air, looking up to the ceiling and running his tongue along his teeth behind his lips, "…_purposeful_. You know _what_ you do. Why not just… _stop?_"

"J, I'm angry with him. I'm not…"

"Oh, now, Jesster… You're not even _trying_…"

"Fine!" Jess snapped, irritated at his teasing. "I'm pissed! He fucking hit me in the face. He's been a complete jerk just because he's _jealous_ of you and…"

The Joker was laughing now, apparently delighted at the reaction he had received. Or perhaps he had thought of his own private joke. In another moment, however, his face had darkened again. He looked down to the ground, eyes dangerous.

"… shouldn't have _touched_…" he said to himself. Jess suddenly understood.

"So _you_ can hit me, but he can't?" she asked before she could stop Joker's answer, however, was simple.

"Yeah…?" he said, as though that was evident. As though she should have known the answer already. And she supposed she did.

"Right," she said. "The property thing." The Joker looked satisfied.

"Oh, by the way, Jesster," he said, pointing at her, "_you_ oughta stop bringing so _much_ attention to yourself. It isn't, uh…" he grinned, "_sophisticated_."

"I don't mean to…"

"_Weren't_ you listening?" the Joker asked, lunging forward again and grabbing her chin, letting his fingers dig into her cheeks painfully. His gruesome smile was stuck on his face but his eyes betrayed deep irritation. "Hm? I mean, I just got done telling you: You _do_ intend to, Jesster. You _do_. You really like _all_ this… _interest_ in _every_ little thing you do." He didn't wait for a reply. "Yeah…" he said, bringing a finger to his temple and then pointing back to her. "I can see that."

"You think I'm fighting with Billy for attention?" Jess asked, torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to slap him. The Joker merely raised his eyebrows and worked his jaw, allowing his tongue to flick out and lick the scar on his lower lip, all the while maintaining intense eye contact with her.

"Uh, _are_ you?"

"No!"

"Then why _care_?"

"Oh Jesus," Jess cried, throwing up her hands. "I don't know! It's hard to lose someone! I don't know what else to do." She regarded him for a moment sulkily. He only watched her, neither seeming moved by her reasoning, nor convinced. "I doubt you'd understand. Anyway, I can't believe _you're_ lecturing me about this, too."

The Joker rolled his eyes and let his jaw go slack for a moment, conveying intense boredom.

"_You_," he said. "It's not about _you_. I'm telling _you_ to stay out of the way and let the, uh, _grownups_ deal with this." Jess shook her head.

"And the grownup would be… you?" she asked sarcastically.

"Uh oh, _careful_ Jesster." His fingers dug into her flesh. "Y'know, you have to _learn_ when to just shut up."

She was never sure when they were fighting anymore, or if anything that happened between them could be called a fight. He always seemed to have the one up on her. Her only hope was to limp along beside him and dig at him when she got the chance, but otherwise simply try to avoid conflict. Why could she never avoid conflict?

She didn't want to continue the conversation, not in the slightest, so she tipped forward on her toes and gave him a light kiss. He pulled away for a moment to look down at her towel-covered form, then smiled widely, ghoulishly and ran a hand up her arm, droplets of water clinging to his glove as he swiped them from her skin.

"I'm glad you're seeing this _my_ way," he said and grabbed her around the waist to pull her into him.

The towel was no match for his searching hands as he pushed her backwards, away from the sink and towards the wall. His aim was a bit off and in a moment Jess's shoulder blades were pressed painfully against the corner of plaster where the wall became the shower. The pain was almost delicious, and Jess reveled in it, but soon decided that comfort would be better and grabbed the Joker's arms, turning him full circle and tugging him into the shower. The roles had been reversed momentarily. Jess's body weight kept his against the wall as she kissed him, loving the temporary power she wielded, feeling _him_ under _her_, kept there with her own strength.

He grimaced, picking up the pace, yet looking down at her with a sort of admiration in his eyes. His jacket was pulled aside and, in the process of pushing his arms out of their sleeves, he had shoved Jess away from him and once more grabbed her in the center of the small stall, trying to regain power. Suddenly feeling playful, perhaps even a little dangerous, and angry every time she thought of Billy, Jess immediately rammed him back. Caught off guard—she'd never done anything resembling that, always allowing him to lead the dance—he stumbled back again, back catching the knob of the shower with considerable force. It wasn't hard to see it would mark, and he had time to look up through his hair at her with fiery eyes before the water started gushing from the shower cap.

They were both soaked instantly by hot, steamy water. Instead of retreating from the stall, however, the Joker seemed to instantly forget that she had pushed him and started to laugh, low and guttural, then pulled her on him again and kissed her roughly. His running greasepaint left streaks across her face as he pulled her closer, ripping off his gloves with an irritated growl.

"Your clothes are getting wet," Jess whispered between kisses, already starting to unbutton his shirt and pull his vest away. This was an understatement. His clothes were veritably soaked already and he couldn't stop shaking with silent laughter as the rest of them came off. Considering how filthy his vestments had become, Jess counted their impromptu shower as a blessing and tossed them directly in the line of water, laughing herself at that almost-motherly action. He seemed not to guess at her motive and continued on in the nature he'd been progressing already.

Soon Jess found herself against the wall again, though how she'd gotten there escaped her, and the room was steadily filling with thick steam. The Joker kept running his lips along her bruised face and neck, cupping her cheeks painfully and paying special attention to any place he felt Billy may have touched.

"This face, it's mine," he said gruffly, licking along her cheekbone. "This body: mine. This little brain," he fumbled his fingers against her hair, "_Mine_. Mine, mine, mine._ You_ are mine, Jesster. Got it?" His voice broke and Jess moaned her acceptance of the fact. She was his. Hell, she could be Madonna if he wanted. He just had to keep doing that thing he was doing with his hips.

She couldn't help but keep staring at him again, especially as his face paint was eliminated and the man underneath shone through. Every thrust caused shooting sparks of pain up her back and mind-blowing pleasure in equal measure. Perhaps she was addicted to that mix, to punishment and reward together. After all, that nearly defined their relationship. Two opposing sides of each of them, fighting for control: The person opposite the mask, the torture opposite the ecstasy, the hate opposite the love. Times like this were times when all pretenses were thrown away and the qualities managed to coexist and simply be. It was explosive and volatile and beautiful. Jess would never stop wondering whether he sensed it, too. Whether he even thought about it. Whether he considered this "good sex," or if he even considered it at all.

It didn't last as long as the night prior, but in a shower what more could there really be**,** than a quickie? After both of them had gotten their fill, things became uncomfortable and the Joker, impatient as ever, pushed away from her and bent down to grab his soaked clothes as Jess turned and shut off the shower. By the time she'd looked back to him, he was retreating without a word, grabbing her towel and wrapping it around his hips. Jess snorted. He'd have to walk all the way back to his room like that. _Awesome_.

The thought of causing him any sort of embarrassment was much more enjoyable than she wanted, but it didn't change the fact that it was hilarious. She started to laugh as he left the bathroom.

* * *

Jess dressed quickly and retreated back to her room, really wanting a nap after last night and this morning—or afternoon. Whatever. She collapsed onto her bed and rolled over to sleep.


	28. Chapter 28

**Okay. I was SO quick this time. Like the Flash or Speedy Gonzales. Seriously. THAT quick. **

**:)**

**Before saying anything else, I want to thank my friend and beta, Tamara Evans, SO MUCH. Without her, this chapter would not be alive and this first scene would be about two pages shorter. Trust me. You won't be able to LIVE without what happens her. :) She is a genius and I love her to death. **

**THANKS, TAM!!**

**Also, thanks to Tam, I have a few more songs I'd like you to listen to, both by Jack Off Jill (Charming band name, I know.)**

**First, Fear of Dying- Jack Off Jill**

**Second, the song that I listened to over and over during writing this, Strawberry Gashes- Jack Off Jill**

**Perfection. Go listen now.**

**REVIEW!!! Cuz I've been so good! Your reviews make my long, cold nights shorter and warmer!!!!!! Thanks for reading!**

* * *

Jess sat up covered in cold sweat and looked around, disoriented, scared, breathing heavily. This was not the prop room and, for a moment, the place in which she'd woken seemed too dark, too rich and, most of all, too _familiar_ to be right.

And then, with a start, she realized where she was.

Jess had woken up in her own bedroom, at home, bathed in the gentle glow of white moonlight through the curtain at the window. Nothing was out of place here. Her posters and clothes and books were exactly where she remembered leaving them, and her bed felt warm and habitual.

Once the comprehension had dawned, Jess let out a heaving sob and fell back against her pillows, which smelt of home, unable to put words to the emotions she was feeling.

She wasn't in Gotham. She was home.

And, from the looks of things, she'd never left.

Jess gasped, filling her lungs and then emptying them with a cry. There was no speck of relief here. She felt no sudden joy to be back in the place she had been raised, knowing her family was close. Instead, she felt only a deep loss.

How had she come to think any of it was real? Beyond that, how had she grown so connected?

And why wasn't she pleased to be home?!

Jess slowly got up, still not quite believing it, and walked out into her hall, tears streaming down her cheeks.

The house was lit and bright. Hearing conversation and movement above her, Jess made her way towards it, up the stairs and into the kitchen.

Her mother and father sat at the table, sipping coffee, speaking in pleasant, mild tones.

"Hello, baby!" her mom greeted.

Jess stood in the doorway, biting her lip, crying steadily while her parents smiled at her.

"We thought you were sleeping," her father announced, taking a sip of his drink. "We saved some for you." He motioned towards the pot of espresso on the counter. Numbly, Jess moved towards it, pouring herself a steaming mug and sitting silently at the table with them.

"Bad dreams?" her mom asked, finally seeming to notice her tears and brushing a long lock of blond hair from her wet cheeks. Jess leaned into the warm touch, realizing how much she had missed them.

The aching loss she felt for Gotham, however, was stronger than any happiness she might have had to be home.

So she only shook her head and looked down at her mug.

"Not a bad dream," she whispered.

Her mother seemed satisfied enough.

"Well, when you want to talk about it, we're here for you," her dad said, squeezing her shoulder gently. The lack of pain there when he did so made Jess shudder and break into tears anew. Even the injuries the Joker had inflicted upon her were better than not having him at all.

"It's nothing," she said. "I'm just feeling kind of sad."

Since when had she ever admitted something like that to them? Dream or not, the whole experience in Gotham had changed her.

"Don't feel sad," her mom replied cheerfully. "It's a beautiful day outside! Look!"

"What?" Jess asked, confused.

She turned around and saw through the sliding glass doors that, indeed, the sun was bright and the sky was cloudless. She frowned, remembering the moonlight coming through her curtains only moments ago. Had she been imagining things in the haze after waking?

"We're so pleased to have you home, sweetie," her father said. "We missed you while you were away."

"Home?" Jess repeated.

"Why you felt you had to stay in that awful place, we'll never know," her mom added, picking at her nails.

Jess regarded them, suddenly suspicious.

Neither of them seemed right. Both were too perfect, too happy and too warm. The sun playing off the lamp shades cast a strange, surreal glow on the scene, and her mom's smile seemed to stretch slightly at the corners, larger than natural, like some human Cheshire cat.

Unnerved by the image, Jess cast her eyes down to her coffee. Under her scrutiny, the brown liquid suddenly started to bubble and boil. Shapes began to writhe in it, like miniature bodies turning together in her cup. They put her in mind of Dante and his Inferno.

Come to that, her misgivings about her surroundings were, themselves, compounded upon by the unpleasant sensation of being trapped, as if in a purgatory or hell. Though compelled to flee, Jess was somehow certain that she would fail should she make an attempt.

There was a rap at the front door, cracking through the silence like thunder, and Jess looked up, startled. In her desperation to investigate what exactly was going on here, why home had changed so much or whether she was only feeling displaced on account of having dreamt of Gotham, she stood up to answer it.

Standing on the front stoop, alive and seemingly well, was Powers Sharp, flashing Jess a brilliant smile.

Before she could overcome shock and register any other emotion, her mother chimed in with a pleasant "Oh, Powers, dear, come on in!"

Powers stumbled towards Jess, a little clumsily, forcing her to abandon any plans of escape as she stepped forward to help keep him on his feet. As her hand made contact with his upper arm, Powers smiled his thanks.

Jess felt her heart warm up a bit. She had missed him so much. Thank God his death had only been within the confines of Gotham.

"Powers, my man, come sit down with us!" her father called jovially, and Jess helped him down the hall, back to the table, seating him in a chair. He seemed weighed down and, while he looked completely well, he was acting tired, a little sick.

"Glad to be here," he mumbled as Jess's mother handed him a mug of coffee.

"Glad to have you!" her father announced, slapping him across the back in a friendly way. The connection of the hand against Powers's skin, however, made a sickening, hollow thump, and Jess thought she heard some rush of liquid released in him, somewhere in his torso. Powers didn't seem hurt, however, so she merely furrowed her eyebrows and tried to examine him silently.

"Drink up," her mom said, and Powers reached forward shakily to take the cup of espresso and bring it to his lips. Upon opening his mouth to take a sip, however, a tidal wave of dark, thick blood and bile sloshed from his mouth, running down his chin and neck.

Jess gasped and jumped up but was detained by her father's warm, wet hand.

"Oh!" her mother exclaimed, laughing and dabbing feebly at Powers's chin with a handkerchief. "Nothing to worry about, dear. Happens to the best of us." She held out the bloody napkin for him to take and continue cleaning himself.

"After all," her father said, his voice low as he squeezed Jess's hand and looked straight at Powers, "you _are_ dead."

Her mother let out a high pitched giggle and her father added to the laughter in his deep baritone. Jess, unsure of what to do, laughed along with them while Powers looked down, grinning abashedly as though he was merely being teased.

Then, suddenly, Powers's grin faded and his hands flew up to his stomach, poking and prodding the skin right around his abdomen. His expression changed to one of panic and his poking grew more and more desperate.

"Dead?" he asked, his voice cracking. "Dead? I'm dead?"

Jess found no humor in this, but her parents laughed even harder, her father bumping his fist against the table, causing the writhing espresso to go flying.

"Oh yeah," her mother howled between guffaws. "You're dead, alright, dear!"

"Dead as a doornail," her father agreed, squeezing Jess's hand, "and Jessica, here, did nothing to stop it!"

Jess whipped around to stare at him, horrified.

"No!" she protested. "No, that's not fair!"

Powers, meanwhile, had stopped searching his stomach and looked up at Jess slowly, deep betrayal in his eyes. Bones creaking and cracking, he started to try and stand, hands braced against the table for support.

"You… killed me?" he asked.

"No!" Jess cried. "No, no, of course not! It was nobody's fault! You were shot! We did everything we could!" Powers's wounded expression remained. "I'm so sorry, Powers," Jess said, tears leaking from her eyes.

His hands came up once again to grope at his stomach, and Jess watched as, slowly, a pool of blood welled up under the shirt, staining his searching fingers. She gasped and backed away, searching his face again to find that he was turning pale, deathly pale. Her mother and father started to laugh once more as Powers quickly deteriorated, skin and hair falling away in large chunks. He took two desperate steps towards her, arms reaching out, before his legs gave way to bone and he collapsed, nothing but a bare skeleton in bloody clothing.

Jess stared in horror at Powers's remains while a strange, whining hum filled the room.

"You won't leave like him, will you?" she heard her father asking her from far away. "You'll stay, won't you?"

Right before she realized she was dreaming, Jess woke up.

* * *

"Jesster!"

Someone was shaking her really hard, the fingers gripping into her shoulder calling to life the pain of the stab wound. She groaned, pushing them away and muttering sleepily about knives and how much they hurt when pushed through the skin.

"Shit. Sorry." Whoever it was who had come to wake her up recoiled a few steps and stood silently while Jess rolled over, feeling such immense relief to actually be where she thought she was that she smiled as she opened her eyes to find Keith in the room.

"Hey there," she croaked, unable to stop grinning.

"Hey, princess," Keith greeted, returning her smile. "You always this happy to be woken up?"

"Today I am," Jess conceded. "What's up?"

"Sorry we couldn't let you sleep longer," Keith said. "The boss needs you to help us do some chores."

"Oh yeah?" Jess sat up and pulled her errant hair into a sloppy ponytail. "What kind?"

"I think you'll like this job," announced Blake, strolling brazenly into the room. Jess sighed at the lack of respect the men had for her privacy nowadays. "I mean, apparently you're into _explosive_, _dangerous_ and all around _arousing_ things… if you know what I'm sayin'…"

"Looks like all of Gotham knows," Jess grumbled, glaring lovingly at Blake.

"Don't flatter yourself there, _sweetheart_," Blake ribbed. "It ain't front page news. Then again, all of Gotham probably _did _hear you guys a while ago."

Jess flushed and looked down, fingering her still-damp hair.

"Nice work, by the way," Keith laughed. "With Billy, I mean. He was being a douche, and not just to you. It was pretty cool of you to be so honest. Knocked him down a few pegs."

"Like I said, it was only gonna be a matter of time…"

"You've _really _squirmed your way into the boss's head," Blake added. "I've been with him all day, doin' stuff. And it's like 'Jesster' this and 'Jesster' that."

"Really?" Jess asked, surprised to find she was delighted.

"Well, not to _that_ extent," said Keith, ever the cool one. "But yeah. He mentioned you once or twice and he was _adamant_ that you were involved in all the stuff we're doing today."

"What _are_ we doing today?" Jess wanted to know.

Blake glanced at Keith. "You wanna tell her the story or should I?"

"You go right ahead," Keith replied, smiling and leaning back against the wall with his arms folded. Jess sat up a little straighter. A story. She loved stories.

"So, this morning, while you were sleeping, the boss got a bunch of us together to go meet with this group of thugs who work for one of Gotham's bosses: the Chechen. They're sort of Russian mafia types, really impressed with big numbers, so most of us were there. Apparently they've been getting pissed at their boss and they're sort of a volatile group anyway, so the Joker decided to meet with them, see if their loyalty could be won over."

"Yeah, Drew said something like that," Jess said. "How'd it go?"

"It was easy," Keith rejoined. "It's not hard to see the boss has already made quite the name for himself. They signed up and they're just waiting for the signal to start the mutiny."

"And we're going to give them that signal, when?"

"Tonight, looks like."

"So what the hell are we doing right now?"

"I'll get to that," Blake said, waving his hand distractedly. "See, last night at the jail, the boss picked up this Chinese guy, Lau, who was holding pretty much all the money from the entire mob so the police wouldn't get to it."

Jess's head started to spin. There were about fifty million too many characters in this little drama.

"Okay…?"

"We have Lau here in the theater," Keith explained. "The boss was right. He talked easy, the little bitch. Not that we didn't have some fun, uh…" he grinned at Blake, " '_gently_ persuading' him, as your boyfriend put it. But, suffice it to say, it didn't take _much_ convincing before he squealed."

"Spare me the details," Jess entreated, blushing slightly at the sarcastic use of the term "boyfriend." While she did enjoy the implications of the word, she found it off-key in reference to the Joker.

"Yeah, no problem," Keith said. "So, as we speak, a bunch of our guys are picking up the money, half of which we have to split with the Chechen, as per this agreement they worked out when he hired the boss."

"But since the Chechen's gonna lose all his holdings anyway, it's pretty much _our_ money?" Jess said, finding herself a little disappointed at the Joker's greed. She hadn't thought he was about money. Getting Gotham and getting rich were two very separate goals.

"Right," Blake said, grinning broadly. "We're rich, kid."

"Okay," Jess sighed. "But you still haven't told me why this involves me."

"_Also_ last night," Keith began, "Harvey Dent and his girlfriend Rachel Dawes were picked up by two mob cops."

"Rachel was that chick J threw out the window, right?" Jess asked, a little bitterly. She'd never forget how the Joker had called her beautiful. It was odd that it bothered her so much, but it did. "The one with the droopy eyes?"

Keith and Blake exchanged a look.

"Yeah, that one," Blake said. "The boss thinks the Batman was into her. He even entertained notions of Dent being Batman."

Jess laughed.

"That's ridiculous."

"_We_ know that," Keith said. "But the boss? He didn't. Though that theory was quickly dropped when they picked up Dent and Rachel and wired them both to a bunch of tanks of gas, in two separate places."

Jess's pulse sped up.

"What happened?" she asked, fearful she already knew the answer.

"The boss apparently told Batman where both of them were, told him to choose who to save… I don't really know, beyond that. He seemed pretty sure Batman would pick Rachel, but he didn't."

"I think he might've switched up their locations," Keith said, "on purpose."

"Dirty prank to play on someone," Blake said, his attempt at disapproval not entirely convincing.

"Well, this is the _Joker_ we're working with."

"So, I assume Batman rescued Dent, but Rachel wasn't so lucky?" Jess asked, suddenly feeling a little shaky. She'd _seen_ that woman. The Joker had talked to her.

She _hated_ when someone she'd practically met died.

"Right," Keith said, a little grimly. "Rachel Dawes is dead and Dent's in the hospital with pretty severe burn wounds."

"Which is where _we_ come in," Blake said. "This guy named Coleman Reese announced today that he knew who the Batman was and he was going to give away his identity tonight on live TV."

"_What_?!" Jess exclaimed. "How the hell does _he_ know?"

"No idea, Jess," Keith replied calmly. "But apparently the Joker's not too hot on that idea anymore. He doesn't _want_ to know who Batman is. He wants to keep him around."

Jess sighed and relaxed. Reese could have ruined _everything_. The Joker's psyche was balanced very precariously as it was. Since first coming up with her theory, Jess had grown surer and surer that knowing the Batman's true face would undo him somehow. Perhaps the Joker, ever perceptive, had picked up on that. Or perhaps he was simply having too much fun with Batman as it was.

"So we have to stop Reese?"

"Right," Blake said, "by blowing up Gotham General, the hospital where Dent was taken."

Jess was shaking her head before he'd finished his sentence.

"No," she said. "Count me _out_. I am _not_ helping to kill a bunch of innocent people!"

"No worries, Jess," Keith said, smiling and coming over to pat her head. He sat on the end of her cot. "The Joker's gonna announce the explosions in plenty of time for the hospital to evacuate."

"He's gonna say that unless someone…" Blake hesitated momentarily, "_stops_ Reese within an hour, he'll blow up a hospital."

Jess grinned.

"That's my J," she said.

* * *

Jess got dressed, as per instruction from Keith via the Joker, in her Jesster outfit, but went light on the makeup. Apparently they were going slightly 'undercover' today.

_Undercover, right. As if anyone could manage to avoid unwanted attention dressed in a purple three-piece suit and reeking of gasoline and instability_, Jess mused.

She stared at herself in the full length bathroom mirror, smoothing the curves of the fabric against her body. She never got tired of seeing herself in costume, simply because she understood that, when the Joker saw her dressed up, he _liked_ it.

Jess was starting to like whatever the Joker liked, especially in regards to herself. He liked the dark parts of her, and coming to terms with those was easier than fighting them.

Which is why she wouldn't let her dream get to her.

There was no point. It was done. She had slipped into REM sleep, her brain waves went a little nuts, neurons fired, her pons baked up some disturbing images with an emotionally repressed filling, and voila, your personalized nightmare is served.

Her subconscious had formed those images in her head and, like it or not, she hadn't wanted to go home. She _didn't_ want to go home, where everything was slightly dull and nobody really understood. Surely they wouldn't understand her _now._

She just wished her parents didn't have to wonder about her. But there was nothing she could do. So why think on it? She was sure doing so would only put her in a dark mood. In fact, if she really picked it apart, Jess was positive she would uncover some pretty sick shit about herself that not even _she_ knew.

Jess laughed, turned and examined her body from a different angle, then marched confidently from the bathroom, jamming her top hat on her head, the contents of which would remain psychoanalysis-free for the time being.

* * *

They only brought one van and five people to the hospital, including Jess and the Joker, who wore an average, semi-casual dark grey suit and light green button up shirt, along with a hat to cover his distinctive hair and a scarf, wrapped around the lower half of his face, to cover his scars. He had no makeup on.

Jess climbed into the cab of the van where he sat in the passenger's seat and settled into his lap, quickly pulling down the scarf and kissing his full mouth before Keith opened the driver's side door.

Blake and Jackson, the Joker's obvious favorites, were along for the ride as well, in the back.

The Joker's fingers tightened around her hips, but that was the only clue she had that he wasn't irritated with her choice to sit on him.

Jess was feeling extremely playful and rested today. It felt good.

"Why are you dressed like _that,_ J?" she asked as Keith started the engine. "Something happen to your clothes?" She flashed him a cheeky grin and Keith cast them a sidelong glance.

"Nah, Jesster," the Joker shot back smoothly. "See, _I_ like to, uh, mix up _my_ wardrobe on occasion." He tugged at the hem of her skirt. "I see _you're _not a fan of _variety_. Hm? Oughta spice it up…" Jess cast him a sultry look (Yeah, right. Sultry.) and brazenly squeezed his knee, which caused his eyebrows to shoot up in interest.

"I can spice things up," she whispered.

"Oh?" the Joker said. He tilted his head downwards, eyes still focused up at Jess, gazing at her through his eyebrows, and he licked his lips quickly. "Uh, _prove_ it."

Jess laughed.

"I will."

She was relatively sure she heard Keith stifle a gag beside them.

* * *

When they arrived at Gotham General it was buzzing with activity, as hospitals are wont to do. No one took any notice of them whatsoever as they parked, grabbed duffle bags loaded with explosives, and headed to four separate entrances.

For once, Jess hadn't been pawned off on one of the men. The Joker had grabbed his bag of tricks, tossed it to her, and said, "Follow me."

Jess hurried after him like an eager puppy dog, careful not to jostle the sack she was carrying too hard. She didn't know how volatile the bombs inside were.

The Joker kept his head down as they walked straight across the parking lot and into Gotham General's main entrance, striding right past the receptionist and into an elevator. The Joker was giggling quietly, extensively amused at how easily he was accepted without his face paint, and Jess couldn't help but laugh, too.

When he noticed her chuckles, he glanced down at her shiftily, almost as if he was nervous, and then hesitantly slid an arm over her shoulder.

Jess relaxed into him, thinking how strange a person he was. Earlier he'd cornered her in a shower and taken her with no questions asked, and now he was anxious about putting an arm around her… As though she'd reject him.

He cleared his throat after a moment. The elevator was very quiet, them being the only two inside.

"Uh… Jesster?" he said.

Jess looked up at him expectantly, wondering what he was about to say. The tone of his voice suggested he was about to relate something of exceptional significance; something secret or deep… perhaps something about his feelings…

"Yeah, J?" Jess asked, breathless at the possibility. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open to reveal a bustling hall.

"Ready to blow this joint?" the Joker asked, and erupted into hysterical guffaws.

Jess's hopes fell away and she elbowed him gently in the side as they left the lift.

"Shh…" she entreated. "You'll get us found out."

"Right, right," the Joker mumbled lightly, playing with a button on his jacket. Then, as if he'd forgotten, he said, "Oh. By the way, do you know why we're _here_, Jesster?"

"To… plant bombs?" Jess whispered as they walked down the corridor, past the nurses' station and various patient rooms.

"No, no, no, no, no," the Joker said quietly, jamming his usually fluttering hands in his pockets. "Why we're _here_… _specifically._"

"Oh," Jess said. "No. Why?"

"Harvey _Dent_ is here," the Joker responded, making a sudden sharp left turn into a room at the very end of the hall. "We just passed his _room_, in fact."

"What?!" Jess exclaimed, excited. "He's _here_?"

The Joker spun on her, reached out and grabbed her by the cheeks with his large hand, effectively covering her mouth and dragging her into the room.

"You'd be _surprised_ how many people can hear us," he said, his face merely inches from hers. "Don't wanna go, uh, _frittering_ this all away, do you?" His hands jumped in time with his words and Jess shook her head enthusiastically.

"No," she said. "No, J. Sorry."

The Joker let go and spun around, examining the dark, empty room. Jess slowly closed the door behind them.

"Now," he said, once they had been shut in, "where to _hide_ our little _bomb_?"

Jess immediately started examining the room for an appropriate hiding place, somewhere it wouldn't be found. After considering, and subsequently casting aside, the thought of taping it to the underside of a bed or a machine, she took a step forward and felt her toe skid over something on the ground, slightly lower than the rest of the tiling. Jess looked down to find a drainage grate, a little circle on the ground about five inches in diameter with half inch square holes in it, for draining water or other fluids (gross) from the room.

Curiously, wondering if this would work, she reached into the duffle bag and pulled out one of the bombs. It looked too cliché to be real: three sticks of obviously homemade explosives, probably filled with gasoline or nitroglycerine, and wired to a central device which blinked green, indicating that it was ready to go off with the push of a remote button.

It was thin and relatively compact. Jess was sure it would slide easily into the hole once she removed the grid.

"Hey, J," she whispered, beckoning him from where he'd become distracted playing with a large piece of medical equipment, quietly whispering "Clear!"

He came over to her and looked down at her discovery, then nodded and, quickly and extremely dexterously, bent down and popped up the grating easily with the blade of his knife. Jess looked down the deep hole, biting her lips, sure the bomb would drop and be lost if she simply put it in there. The Joker held out a shaky finger in front of her face, clearly communicating, "Hold on and watch me."

He walked over to the duffle bag and searched in it, past the six or seven other explosives in there, until he found a ball of unassuming brown twine. He held a hand out and Jess handed him the bomb and watched while he fixed the twine around a safe part at the center, holding it out so she could see every so often, silently demonstrating the process to her as though he were a magician doing a trick.

He would raise his eyebrows at her as though to say, "You see this? Are you watching?" hold up his pointed finger, and do some simple movement such as measuring out a piece of string or tying a knot. After a few moments of this, Jess was trying feebly to contain her giggles, amused by his playfulness which, for once, seemed to match hers.

The Joker tied the other end of the twine--attached securely to the bomb--to the grate, dropped the bomb carefully down the hole and watched it dangle, held there by the metal lattice. He then replaced the grill and stood up.

"One down," he said vaguely, and Jess followed him from the room.

* * *

They met the boys back at the van nearly an hour later, having spent the whole time running about the hospital on two or three floors, attaching bombs to metal floor drains. Jess loved to watch the Joker when he was like this, working and occupied and not simply bored or planning. He really seemed to love his job and she was amazed at how easily he mixed seriousness, getting things done, with a giddy and infectious sense of play.

As they walked down the halls, he was always stealing things from carts and pocketing them randomly, switching objects from one place to another, upsetting papers and raising his eyebrows suggestively at nurses.

However, surprisingly, they were never once approached or even looked at. The Joker had a way of blending silkily into shadows, standing back with an innocently surprised expression, or disappearing all together around the next corner. Jess had never been more certain that she was watching a master at his trade, operating fully in his element, and her careful observations had earned her more than just a few useful tricks. He was a genius at this and it simultaneously intrigued and aroused her; she fixed her eyes on him.

How had things changed so quickly?

Experts agree, sex changes a relationship, but Jess certainly hadn't anticipated this. She didn't doubt that he was still her authority figure, would still show his anger should she attempt to defy him, would hurt her if he wanted to; but now that they'd slept together—now, she thought, that he was secure in his claim to her—he seemed more at ease to joke with her in that dark way he did. Their relationship had suddenly gotten much more interesting, much more enjoyable and not at all light.

In fact, there was a certain darkness in the way he looked at and touched her. Something about his eyes, about the way his voice dropped and his hands moved, made her think he wanted her now more than ever. He was forever touching her, asserting his claim as though he simply could not get enough of a good thing. And she was most _definitely_ not inclined to object.

The Joker was gluttonous and greedy. He had pride that would embarrass Haman and wrath that could tear a city to pieces. She noticed his envy, and his lust, more often than she noticed their absence. In fact, the only deadly sin that did not make up a large part of the Joker's persona was sloth, though she was sure he was guilty of that, too.

Why, then, did she find him so redeemable, so admirable?

Because he simply _was_. He was letting himself be, doing whatever he wanted _when_ever he wanted, rules be damned. His philosophy, finally evident to Jess, could be put into simple words now: "Life is short. Live like it's your last day. It might well be.

Why allow society's restrictive definitions of what is or isn't 'right,' 'proper,' or 'acceptable' to ruin your fulfillment, your expression, your _good time_? Did they honestly think most people could make it if they truly played by all the rules?

He'd painted himself on the outside. She saw that now. The clown was who he truly was, the inner J, and the scarred human underneath was merely a face… a face completely inadequate to express what he wanted to say. She admired that. She _loved_ that, probably because he brought that freedom, that self expression and truthfulness, out in her. Jess was growing fonder each day of the person she was becoming, as though in destroying herself she was finding herself. She'd never felt more free, more alive, more sure that life was beautiful and she was going to live it.

That was the thing about the Joker. However dangerous his actions, however much he put himself at risk and didn't care whether or not he survived an outing, he would never claim that living wasn't wonderful, that chaos and anarchy weren't things of beauty. Even tortured as he was, as he had to be, living with a split mind, he loved life. It was odd to think, but he did. The masochist in him allowed him to enjoy his own suffering, and the sadist allowed him to enjoy the suffering of others.

Jess nestled into him as they seated themselves back in the car for the ride back to the theater. Their jobs were done. The bombs were planted safely, they were assured by the others, in places no one would look, even when the Joker called attention to the fact that he was going to blow up a hospital.

Jess stifled a yawn.

"What are we doing now, J?" she asked. The Joker tapped her hips and looked out the window.

"Not, not, not," he muttered to himself, then turned back to her. "Not _done_ for the day yet, Jesster. Still got a _lot_ of work to do."

"Great," Jess said with a grin. "I can't wait."

* * *

**REVIEW!!! ANY comments, questions, concerns I'd be glad to hear and will get back to you about if you want me to!!!**

**Also, for God's sake, go to Joker Blogs. They are perfection in a youtube video and they make me smile... REEEEEEAAAAAAALLLLL big. :) I will marry whoever that actor is that is playing the Joker. He does Heath SO well...**


	29. Chapter 29

**My beautiful, beautiful readers! Thank you for being so patient with me and, like usual, I apologize for taking so long. First quarter = awesome. **

**I've been pretty distracted but I'm trying as hard as I can to find time for this story and post it. I shan't give up on it though! Ever! I love it--and all of you--too much!**

**Uhm... Modest Mouse has been bringing me through with this one. The song "I Came as a Rat" is phenominal for this story.**

**Thanks as always to my incredible beta, Tamara! She's awesome and I love her.**

**If you're into the film _Labyrinth_, you might get a kick out of my new story, _Alone Down There_. **

**As always, let me know what you think!!!!**

* * *

Upon arriving back at the theater, the Joker told Jess to hurry up and "get all… _pretty_." She assumed this meant that she should put on more makeup and grab her top hat so she ran straight for the bathroom when the vans pulled into the lot.

Fifteen minutes and she was ready, which was a good thing, too, because as soon as she pulled the restroom door open, she found Jackson and Billy standing there, Jackson's fist raised, poised to knock. Billy was situated just behind his left shoulder, staring at the ground. He'd obviously been recruited to come and get her but doubtlessly hated every moment of it.

Jess shot him a bitter smile and touched her neck, where bruises had formed thanks to him that could only be covered up with a copious amount of concealer. She would not assuage his guilt. He had been an ass. Staring at the ground would be the only _appropriate_ course of action in her presence.

"Oh good," Jackson said cheerfully, trying to ignore the tension between them. "You're ready. Boss says get in the car."

She followed them down the hall to the exit, where the Joker stood, dressed once again to the nines in purple, his makeup reapplied and hair pushed back like he was trying to be fancy. Jess smiled at him and he came forward, glancing at Billy with a malicious air and possessively sliding his arm around Jess's waist.

"Got a _surprise_ for you, Jesster," he said as he pushed the door open.

Jess was momentarily blinded by brilliant sunlight, but after adjusting she looked around and immediately saw what he was talking about.

A beautiful, brand-new Jaguar stood in the lot, wheels glinting silver in the midday sun, rich black paint almost unfairly cool. The windows were tinted very dark, probably darker than was legal, the better to protect the identities of the occupants.

"Oh!" Jess said, walking towards it eagerly. She wasn't much of a car girl, but her dad had wanted this make and model ever since it came out at the beginning of the year. At least, she was almost certain it was the precise vehicle he'd coveted, the unmistakable sleek angles clearly communicating the elevated tax bracket of the owner. She touched the back window reverently as the Joker, Billy, Jackson and Blake started following.

"How d'you like _this_, guys?" Blake asked. "Ridin' in style!"

"Courtesy of Mr. Lau," Jackson said cheerfully, knocking on the trunk lid, from which a low cry was emitted.

Jess stopped and stared at back end of the car, eyebrows knitted. Apparently the Chinese accountant guy was along for the ride, though not buckled safely.

The Joker didn't look particularly impressed with the car and seemed apathetic about Jess's reaction as he casually tossed the keys to Blake, opened the back door and pushed Jess inside. Jackson climbed in the back through the other side, which would leave Jess sitting bitch between him and the Joker once he joined them. Billy inconspicuously claimed shotgun, most likely to avoid having to sit next to Jess.

It didn't turn out to be much of an issue, anyway. As soon as he was inside, the Joker pulled Jess towards him, leaned her against his chest and kept her there. She doubted any of these displays of affection were actually what they seemed. It was almost as if the Joker, ever observant of the details, knew what was entailed in the finer points of courting or a romantic relationship, but had either never had, or hadn't recently had, the opportunity to apply such knowledge. He was almost mimicking what might look romantic to the outside observer, which Jess found endlessly amusing, even if it was somewhat at her own expense.

She knew from the Joker's expression and ever shifting attention towards Billy that his main goal was to antagonize the other man. Jess smiled. He could do whatever he wanted in that regard.

They rode for about fifteen minutes. The men were endlessly fascinated with the smoothness of the shocks and brakes, and the ease with which the car would accelerate into higher gears. The Joker remained silent, staring out the window, a smile playing around his lips as he listened to the boys and tapped his fingers against Jess's collar bone.

Their destination turned out to be the port, where a large iron steamship was anchored to a dock. The Joker left the car casually, at ease and unafraid about any interloping law enforcement even as Billy and Blake pulled Lau from the trunk and got him to his feet. He was tied up and gagged. Jackson, meanwhile, pulled two gallon containers of gasoline from the car.

Jess found the attitude of nonchalance over the entire situation laughable; with no concern over security guards or nervousness about getting caught, they were dragging a kidnapped man from a stolen car to a criminal rendezvous in broad daylight. Only a month or two ago, Jess would have been having ducks, but in the Joker's presence she shared in the apparent lack of concern. She _might_ even say she was having fun.

Jess stepped out into the beating sun and, barely sparing Lau a glance in case his life ended today, frowned at the boat, wondering why they were here. Billy was the only one who seemed worried, though Jess couldn't place whether it was about the situation at hand or _their_ situation, and pulled his black hood up to cover his shock of auburn hair.

The answers to Jess's questions soon became apparent. They entered the vessel through a lower door, the Joker in the lead with Jess at his side, the men following behind, dragging Lau. The men struggled with unwieldy gas cans and thecumbersome hostage, as they moved further into ship. Narrow ladderwells and even narrower passageways, some rusted with time, seemed to be slowing the progress of everyone _but_ the ever-agile Joker.

Finally, they came to an antechamber where they were greeted by a few mobsters who smiled nervously at the Joker and smiled slyly at Jess. All of a sudden, she had the unmistakable inkling that she was here to impress the other criminals: that the Joker had brought her as a kind of trophy. Not liking this in the least, Jess started to glower, turning her hateful expression up to her boss, who looked down at her and raised his eyebrows.

"Stop being so sour, _doll_," he said, emphasizing "doll" sarcastically. "We're _here_… to have fun…" He didn't look like he was in the mood to have fun. Once more, his whimsy had given way to focus. He looked dangerous.

She had seen these subtle changes to his demeanor before. To the untrained eye, he would appear to be a man unhinged, his ticks and shifting eyes the physical manifestation of inner turmoil and psychosis. To Jess, though, they indicated the preparedness and vigilance privy to a man who was acutely and personally aware that one must _always_ expect the unexpected. The set of his jaw, the intensity in his gaze, the minute increase of tension—especially in his shoulders—all made him look ready to strike. Jess didn't doubt that he was.

Frightened of what disobeying him now would provoke, she stopped grimacing and came to terms with the fact that, as a woman, was going to be used as a symbol of the Joker's power. She even tried to be flattered by it, to little avail.

Flattered or not (and how could you _not_ be whilst being leered at by less than scrupulous men with the audacity to assume they might ever have a shot in hell?), Jess smiled, playing the Jesster even if she didn't really feel it.

She trusted the Joker to keep her from death or, at the very least, to avenge her death if such a thing occurred. Having him at her side made her feel safe and protected. It was her boys she was worried about now. If Powers' death had proven anything, it was that even the infallible Joker was vulnerable to chance and luck; sometimes even _his_ plans went wrong. Despite their alleged loyalty to the Joker, Jess didn't trust these gangsters as far as she could throw them. She couldn't watch what had happened to Powers happen to anyone else. She simply _couldn't_.

Walking deeper into the bowels of the ship with scarcely a word spoken, they came finally to a large chamber with rusted out walls (which made Jess second-guess the ship's sea worthiness) and smelling distinctly of iron. In the very center of the chamber, two massive piles of money—green, American bills—stood stacked in towering pyramids. Jess laughed at the unintentional comic display and disentangled herself from the Joker to start towards them, picking up a wad of cash and examining it. _Every_ single bill was a hundred or more. Jess had never even _seen_ a five hundred dollar bill, much less_ touched_ one, and as her fingers stroked the face of a stack of them, she grinned at the ludicrousness of the entire situation.

William McKinley was on the front of the bills. Who the fuck knew who _William McKinley_ was?

She'd never been around anywhere near this quantity of money and, starting to get into character, decided she needed to climb the hill of it, like some kind of cartoon.

Her boys started chuckling to themselves as she kicked off her shoes and scrambled up the pile relatively gracefully. The mobsters around them regarded them with looks of surprise. This was business. How she was having fun here, at ease around someone like the Joker, was beyond them. Jess wasn't sure she would have done it if the situation seemed like it needed to be completely grim but, looking back at the Joker's calculating expression—as though he was impressed, amused and pensive at the same time—she knew he wasn't going to be angry. In fact, when she reached the top and peeked over the edge, unable to keep from laughing a little, the Joker had turned around, roughly grabbed Lau and was following her up the money pile, dragging the accountant after him.

Jess grinned at him, proud of herself. He'd thought she had a good idea!

The Joker sat Lau down forcibly once he'd crested the pile, giggling a little to himself at the gags and ties around his hands, then quickly bound his ankles. Lau remained unresponsive and blank. He seemed drugged, or resigned. Jess couldn't decide which of those was more depressing, and so she tried not to look at him.

Then, in a demonstration of his character that was so completely _him_, the Joker flopped down on his back and began making snow angels in the money. Jess laughed in delight and crawled over to sit beside him, playing with the bills, flipping and shuffling them like so many playing cards.

"_Hey_," the Joker said quietly, and Jess looked over to find he was staring at her, still lying with his head near her legs. He stretched an arm up, took hold of the front of her dress and pulled her down forcefully, mashing their lips together in a wild kiss, warmer and deeper than she thought a short embrace should be. Just as abruptly as he'd begun, however, he cut off when a metal door slammed somewhere and a group of men could be heard making their way to the room. It was odd, but Jess thought she heard dogs there, as well. She straightened up, on alert.

"_Just_ the Chechen," the Joker mumbled, pursing his lips and settling deeper into the money.

"Hey, you!" someone from below yelled in a thick Russian accent, apparently to Billy, Blake or Jackson. "Where is the Joker-man?"

Jess couldn't see, but she assumed one of them had pointed to the pile of money, because the Joker immediately sat up as the Chechen turned his attention to him. Jess peeked over the wall of cash. The Russian mobster was every bit his own stereotype: greasy, slicked back hair, a deep set face complete with a scar on his forehead, and a too-expensive brown leather jacket. He even chewed on the end of a smoking cigar as he regarded the piles of money with an expression that clearly showed he was pleased.

The Joker scrambled to his feet, arms out to ensure his balance, as the Chechen addressed him.

"Not so crazy as you look!" he announced jovially.

A dog barked behind him and Jess excitedly turned to catch sight of three big**,** beautiful Rottweilers. She had to stifle a gasp. She was a sucker for animals and she hadn't seen a dog in months. These ones looked well cared for and rather kind, but obviously defensive of their master.

"I told you…" the Joker said, walking to the edge of the pile and using Lau's head momentarily for balance. "I'm a man of my word!" With that, he jumped and slid down the slope of money, performing a perfect dismount. Jess smiled. "Where's the Italian?"

"More for us," the Chechen proffered, and the Joker shrugged and turned back to the pile of bills, throwing a handful of wadded cash harshly at Lau and Jess.

"Jesster, get down," he ordered and Jess, without a second thought, slid down the back side of the pile even as the Joker continued to chuck money at Lau like a target at a carnival. The Chechen's eyes flickered to Jess curiously as she stood and smoothed her wrinkled dress, then looked at the approaching, smiling Russian gangsters and walked quickly away to stand with Billy, Blake and Jackson. She didn't like these Russian guys. They all looked like they wanted to make a meal of her.

"Please," the Chechen said, "Joker-man, what do you do with all your money?"

The Joker turned his attention back to the mob boss, abandoning his target, and began in a low, serious tone.

"You see, I'm a guy of simple tastes," he said, pulling a silver gun from inside his coat and making exaggerated gestures with it. "I enjoy, uh… _dynamite_ and gunpowder… and _gasoline_!" This last word was called back to the boys with a certain air of authority and Billy grabbed the gas can from Jackson, walking forward to begin pouring it all over the pile of bills.

Jess started to smile. The Chechen started to get nervous.

"What's this?" he demanded, walking forward. The Joker casually turned his gun on him, forcing him to halt.

"Ah-ta-ta-ta-ta," he hushed him, glancing back to see how Billy was doing. Once satisfied with the progress, he turned back to the Chechen. "And you know the thing that they have in common? They're_ cheap_." He approached the mob boss, smiling. Jess bit her lip as she looked at him.

Burning his money…

Her J was a genius, and even though she didn't quite get his point yet, she had a feeling she would be impressed.

"You said you were a man of your word," the Chechen said, a little desperately. Jess giggled. This was getting more exciting every second that ticked by.

"Oh, I am," the Joker replied, reaching forward and plucking the cigar from between the Chechen's teeth. He looked at it, blew on both sides—for good measure—to light the sparks and then said, "I'm only burning my half." He then threw it on the pile of money.

Though Jess didn't consider herself a greedy person by any means, she briefly felt the _tiniest_ flicker of regret over seeing such a massive fortune burn. This knee-jerk reaction was quickly overshadowed, however, by the expression of utter horror and loss on the face of the Chechen.

The Joker wasn't greedy. He wasn't doing this for money. Oh, no. And that pleased her _greatly_.

A thought occurred to Jess then which sent a shiver down her spine.

Though public opinion would brand the Joker "evil;" condemn him along with his actions, motivations, ideals and principles—which he _clearly_ had—they had no power over him. None whatsoever. Law enforcement, government and media had labeled the Joker a criminal and a madman, a neat package to define what they simply couldn't understand. The public accepted this, convincing themselves they were nothing like this abhorrent creature. In this sense, the mindless masses of Gotham were no different from the sheep grazing around Jess' world. They were all living in little glass houses, lobbing bricks of self-deceit and sin. They each stood on a moral high ground that existed only in their heads.

Her pain, blood, torment, sweat, tears and turmoil now seemed a small toll to pay for access to the road she traveled. The sharp realization that the Joker was responsible for her liberation, and the liberation of the Twenty, was like breathing for the first time.

"All you care about is _money_," the Joker said, staring the Chechen right in the eyes as his dogs began to bark. "This town _deserves_ a better class of criminal," he declared with conviction, "and I'm gonna give it to them." He glanced behind the Chechen to the barking dogs and the passively observing Russian gangsters. Jess remembered being told that their loyalty had already been won by the Joker. "Tell your men they work for me, now," the Joker said, pointing at the mob boss with his gun. "This is _my _city."

This, there was no doubt, was the truth.

The Chechen set his jaw.

"They won't work for a _freak_," he replied.

Jess tightened her fists but didn't move when she noticed the Chechen's own men approaching their one-time boss menacingly.

"A _freak_," the Joker whispered, impersonating the Chechen's heavy accent. He drew out a switchblade and flicked it open in front of the Chechen's face. "Why don't we cut you up into little pieces and feed you to your pooches?" He tossed his knife to one of the approaching gangsters. "Hm? And then we'll see how loyal a hungry dog really is."

As he spoke, his point was demonstrated by the Chechen's former employees as they grabbed him by the arms and started to drag him forcibly back towards his dogs. This betrayal marked only the latest example of the Joker's distinctive brand of poetic justice, one Jess was learning to revel in.

She stared at him now, past the point of turned on; she could scarcely keep from simply jumping on him here and now. His confidence, abilities and way of making everything work for him were somehow the sexiest things about him. The raw power when he spoke tinged the air, threatening and charged. Continual underestimation of his abilities kept bringing incredibly powerful (and egotistical) men _literally_ to their knees.

It was, in a word, awesome.

He started to dig in the pocket of his coat, searching for something, and finally withdrew a small cellular phone. Jess's eyes widened as she looked at it. It was hers! It had been confiscated the first day she'd come here. She hadn't seen it until now.

That thing had reception in another universe?

"It's not about money," the Joker muttered, checking the time quickly and then dialing a rapid number. "It's about sending a _message_." Jess licked her lips, wanting so badly to ambush him and drag him to a dark corner. His ideals… They were perfection. "Everything burns," he announced to the room at large, putting the ringing phone to his ear.

Jess wondered who it was, walking up to him now that everyone else was preoccupied by the Chechen's fate.

"Mr. Reese," he began, once the other line had picked up, forcing his voice into that of a little old lady. Jess had to slap her hands over her mouth as a burst of giggles welled up in her throat. He was on the phone with that guy who was going to give up Batman's identity! "What's more important: one life or a hundred?"

The person on the other end—presumably Coleman Reese—gave his answer.

"Okay," said the Joker, still disguising his voice (and doing a damn fine job of it), "let's say it's _your_ life. Is it worth more than the lives of several hundred others?"

Jess could only imagine Reese shakily exclaiming, "Of course not!"

"I'm glad you feel that way," the Joker said. "Because I've put a bomb in one of the city's hospitals. It's going off in sixty minutes unless someone kills you."

Apparently the speaker on the other end asked who he was. The Joker smiled.

"Just a concerned citizen," he said, impersonating an old lady. Then, his tone dropped to its regular pitch, "—and a regular guy…"

Jess smiled at him widely.

"I had a vision," the Joker said, "of a _world_ without Batman… The mob ground out a _little_ profit and the police tried to shut them down _one_ block at a time, and it was _so_… _boring_." Jess grinned. "I've had a change of _heart._ I don't want Mr. Reese _spoiling_ everything, but why should _I_ have all the fun? Let's give someone else a chance! If Coleman Reese isn't dead in sixty minutes, then I blow up a hospital. Of course… you could _always_ kill _yourself_, Mr. Reese. But, uh _that_ would be the noble thing to do. And you're a lawyer."

The Joker nodded, brought down the phone and hung up, pocketing it. He turned to Jess and grinned.

"Ready, _Jesster_?" he asked.

Jess stared up at him with wide eyes, the corners of her mouth turned up in a devilish grin. Today had shown her something else that was in the Joker. She couldn't put words to it, but it was a new facet that completely captivated her.

She realized she was in love with him.

Jess blinked, frowned and looked away, incredibly disturbed by this thought. What? How? Why? _When_?!

The Joker?

She checked herself, wondering if the idea would go away. No… No, still there… It was persistent, in her head and in her heart. She laughed breathily, eyes wide as she unpredictably started to tear up a bit. She sniffed and brought her gaze up to his again, wanting to scream her new found realization, tell him everything she felt. She wanted him to reciprocate.

Thing was, she knew he didn't. Or, if he did, she knew he wouldn't say. Perhaps even _couldn't_ say.

That knowledge didn't hurt as much as it seemed it should. She'd never expected him to feel such a deep affection for her as _love_ and her own being—passionate, spontaneous, wild—was prone to fall in love with nearly everyone.

She simply knew she'd found her match in him, whatever the consequences were. He had freed here—not _changed _her life, but given her an entirely new one. She wished she could somehow tell him, thank him. She knew she couldn't.

"You're amazing," she said instead, trying to convey her wonder for him in the same breath. As soon as the words left her mouth, however, she promptly wished she had lodged her foot there instead. He frowned at her facial expression and regarded her pensively, licking his teeth behind closed lips.

Finally, he voiced a quiet, "Hm…" and turned away, motioning that she was to follow him. Jess recovered from her state and followed without delay.

* * *

Once back in the car, the energy suddenly took on a distinct feeling of urgency. Blake veritably raced down the pier, back to the main road, while Jess craned around in her seat to look back at the barge.

"Hey," she said, frowning, "wait… Where's the Chinese dude?"

Jackson smiled tightly.

"Did _you_ bring him down off the pile of fiery money?" he asked. "I didn't."

"Me neither," Blake said from the front, obviously trying to laugh off the horrendous thought. Jess swallowed back bile and settled against the Joker, never less than comforted just by touching him. He was solid but warm and secure, even if he didn't mean to be… and Jess was relatively sure he didn't.

Suddenly, the car came to a screeching halt. Jess sat up, surprised, and looked out the front window to find a parked ambulance blocking the road leaving the shipyard. Two men leaned against the front bumper, arms folded, watching the Jaguar. They wore white medical coats and blue scrubs. Jess frowned. What were doctors doing here?

Blake parked and stepped out of the driver's side door.

"Hey guys!" she heard him call amiably. The Joker followed him, opening the door and hailing the men around the ambulance with a casual little wave, almost dismissive. Jess trailed along behind, stepping curiously out of the car.

She had to squint her eyes before she realized that the two men were Laurence and Andrew, dressed in hospital attire. And driving an ambulance.

Oh Jesus.

Jess could only imagine.

The Joker turned and unceremoniously grabbed Jess's wrist, pulling her along towards them. Laurence had tossed Blake a set of scrubs and he was pulling them on over his clothes. Jess was relatively sure he was with her in that he had no idea what they were going to do, but he said nothing. The men were getting really good at merely riding along on the boss's flow, something Jess simply could not perfect, no matter how she tried.

"Oh, Jesster's coming along, too?" Drew asked, aiming his query at the Joker, who simply raised his eyebrows as though that much should be clear. He was pulling her along, after all. If she wasn't coming, she would still be in the car. "We didn't bring anything for her… Here, Jess, you can have my coat…" He slipped out of the white medical jacket he wore and slung it over her shoulders.

Still frowning, Jess slipped her arms into it and buttoned it up the front, checking out her reflection in the driver's side window. She brushed her hair behind her ears, trying to attain a look of professionalism which was completely offset by her whimsical makeup. She wrinkled her nose.

"Not convincing," she told her reflection.

Drew laughed and withdrew a pair of reading glasses from the paper bag by his feet, the one from which he had withdrawn Blake's costume, handing them to Jess. She set them on her nose and looked back up. From a distance she'd look fairly credible as a young intern or resident, and that was good enough.

While she'd been examining herself, the Joker had climbed into the back of the ambulance, after sending a few parting orders towards Blake and Laurence. Drew followed him, Laurence swapped Blake and started strolling towards the Jag, and Blake paced around to climb inside the passenger side door. Jess realized the implications of this suddenly.

"Oh, uh-uh," she said, ripping the driver's side door open and staring at Blake, who was buckling up. "No. I'm not driving this thing. That's your area."

"Uh, that's where you're _wrong_, Jesster," the Joker said suddenly, popping his head between the front seats and meeting her eyes. "You're no use _inside_ the building."

Jess really had to restrain herself from punching him across his smug face, especially as he flashed her that evil grin and disappeared into the back again.

"You'll do good," Drew told her from the back, laughing despite himself at her affronted expression. "When we unload, just take this around to the back of the hospital and park it by the school busses. The others will meet you there. Oh, yeah. Boss, they're all in position."

There was a moment of silence, as though Drew had expected the Joker to congratulate him, and then Jess cleared her throat and climbed in the front seat. Her hands were shaking slightly as she reached for the ignition and pulled the seat forward. New cars, especially ones as large and ungainly as an ambulance—you had to have a new license to even legally drive that shit!—made her anxious.

The heels weren't helping, so she kicked them off and threw them into the back area, immediately regretting the blind toss as she heard one shoe collide with something that went "ow." She glanced back to see the nonplussed face of the Joker, staring murderously at the offending shoe. Holding back her laughter, she started up the vehicle.

* * *

Driving in Gotham was like driving in New York in the middle of a perpetual rush hour, and Jess's nonexistent map of the area made so that things became pretty stressful. They put the siren on as soon as they merged onto the main road, so cars jumped out of their way relatively frequently, but Blake was awful at giving directions and Jess found herself being way too heavy on the brakes and making jerky, sudden turns at first.

It was when she'd gotten used to the handling that she started noticing the bumps and curses coming from the back.

Sparing a glance in the rearview mirror, she watched the Joker topple against the gurney back there, clad only in boxers, while trying to slip on a white garment in which he'd gotten entangled as the truck lurched.

She grinned and gunned the gas right as he straightened up, which made him trip back against the doors, then she tapped the brakes, plunging him headfirst against the driver's seat. The solid impact his body made, coupled with the sound of his little growl, gave her an enormous sense of satisfaction, even as he reached through the gap beneath the headrest and grabbed a fistful of her hair, tugging twice.

"Be. _Careful_," he ordered. Jess laughed and tried to tip her head forward, prevented by the firm grasp he had on her hair.

"J, don't distract me. I'm driving," she said, hitting the brakes.

He lost his footing and bounced back with a growl of rage, which suddenly turned into a breathy chuckle as he took a seat on the gurney and pulled on the rest of his costume. Jess cast her attention back to the road.

* * *

They arrived at the hospital in due course.

Drew instructed Jess to simply pull up near the front and cut the gas so they could get out. Once they were inside the building, she was supposed to wait two minutes before starting the vehicle again and rendezvousing with some other men, who would by waiting around back by their personal school bus.

Jess took mental notes, afraid her adrenaline and excitement might somehow compromise her ability to follow simple instructions. She didn't lack confidence in herself so much as she feared that some unforeseen circumstance--a too-alert cop, a curious nurse—might foil them. This would be absolutely horrid timing for her to make a mistake, so Jess was painstakingly careful as she drove.

The parking lot was packed with people, at work already loading the sick and dying into ambulances and the healthier among them into crowded buses. Evacuating a hospital seemed like no easy task, but it allowed the men to remain unnoticed as they hopped out of the ambulance and made their wayleisurely towards the building's entrance.

Jess started to giggle suddenly when she saw the Joker. He was dressed in a short white nurse's outfit—costume more than functional—and a hideous red wig. He wore a paper mask over the lower half of his face, to cover his signature red grin, and when he looked back through the window to find her laughing at him, he blatantly wiggled his hips as he walked, for a moment seeming convincingly feminine. Then, he disappeared inside.

Jess sighed again. After the initial shock of the realization, it wasn't hard to consider him The-Man-She-Loved.

She thought over just how he'd take it if she told him… Probably not well at all. She could see him assuming she was out of her mind or that she'd lost her worth in allowing her affections to reach such a pinnacle. He might try to dissuade her**…** or he might try to kill her. Either way, the more she thought it over, the more certain she became that she would never tell him.

Even if it was _burning_ to be let out.

Even if she was _burning_ to know exactly how _he _felt… if his feelings matched hers on any level or if he felt anything at all.

He couldn't empathize with anyone, but that wasn't the same as love. And, if he did love her, it would be as twisted as his psyche, and more than obsessive. Did she really want that kind of thing? The prospect of him loving her was as frightening as it was appealing, and…

Oh, yes, she wanted that more than anything.

She knew he, at the least, felt strongly protective and possessive of her. She knew he wanted her physically and he enjoyed kissing and touching her. She even knew he, in some ways, liked being around her, and he didn't make a secret out of seeking out her company.

God, that _had_ to count for something, didn't it?!

That sounded a _little_ like love… right?

Jess shook her head, needing the physical stimulation to clear her mind and focus.

Finding the other men was a piece of cake. As soon as she pulled the car around to the back lot, she was able to spot four or five of them, lounging against the bus, chatting casually to each other. Sometimes they'd help someone step on, if a superior pointed the person their way, and this made Jess go cold.

They were taking on _hostages_?! Oh, Christ. Oh, oh Christ.

"What are you doing?" she asked as soon as she parked the ambulance beside them—not as easy a task as it sounded—and left it.

Instead of answering, the men simply shrugged at her, as though to say, "What does it look like?" and helped an old lady step onboard. Jess sighed.

Whatever the Joker was planning, there was little she could do about it. So, she leaned against the side of the bus next to Jackson, folded her arms and waited.

* * *

**REVIEW PLEASE!! :) I'll love you forever!!!!**

**The way Jess loves the Joker...**

**Heh.**


	30. Chapter 30

**Warning: This is a long AN. I'd love for you to read it, but I can't force you… But… Um… Please do it? For me? :-P**

**I know I've been gone forever, and for that I truly apologize. My creativity was really, really low for a while; I was burned out doing school, moving, making friends, blah, blah, blah, whine, whine, whine, excuse, excuse, excuse…**

**But I _can_ promise you that the next chapter will not take this long. Mostly because I already have it halfway done. J**

**Thank you all for sticking with me, and thank you newer readers for picking this up! It's always incredibly lovely when someone reviews for the first time. It is most definitely a highlight of my day. You all really, honestly, have no idea the impact you have on me. Your praise and criticism makes me think deeply and, above all, makes me smile.**

**We're drawing to a close with this one, ladies (and gentlemen?). Surely you've noticed, the movie is almost over…**

**But let me just say… This is only the beginning. Bwahahahaha!**

**I'm not allowed to say any more right now, but you'll hear soon enough.**

**In other news, the latest Joker Blog made me FREAK OUT. I seriously could not contain myself. Y'all go watch it. Then let me know what you think!!**

**Again, as always, a loud shout-out to my incredible beta and best friend,** Tamara Evans**. Lovey, this never would have happened if not for you. Thank you so much for giving me the courage to do what I do in this chapter. You remind me of the babe. **

**Another shout I'd like to give is to **HoistTheColours**. Thanks for your discussions and all your sweet words. You are one of the main reasons I am passionate about this piece again. :D**

**One thing, slightly more serious.**

**I understand if people have problems with my work. That's totally okay (it's far, far, FAR from perfect) and I welcome criticism. It helps me better myself as a writer. But apparently leaving one negative review on another story on this site gets people seriously angry and causes them to try to punish me for it. I will say that I feel kind of bad for not thinking my actions completely through.**

**This does not mean I apologize or take anything back, however. Listen, guys, if you're mad about it and want to tell me how awful I am, fine, PM me and I will try to explain to you my motives. No worries. But please do not leave _anonymous_ flames on this story simply because you want to rant at me! At the very least, _sign_ such negative reviews. You wanna say something to me, say it to my face. Because doing otherwise is cowardly and it really does not make me take you at all seriously. In fact, I scoff. I will always listen to your criticism as long as it has ground to back it. Oh, and also, please don't be sarcastic about it because, I warn you, I WILL take it as a compliment. I can't read the difference between sarcasm and seriousness. :P**

**Ahem. Sorry. I really do love you fans out there. You're really incredible and I am so pleased that you're still hanging in here. I had a serious creative slump that I'm still working out of, but you guys and this story are on my mind nearly every day.**

**Those of you lurkers, the ones who have been along for the ride but have not reviewed, I'd love to hear from you. Tell me what you like, what you hate, why you read. You can even just give me a review comprised of "!!!" and I will be happy. J Because I really appreciate everyone's input. I truly care about what you have to say. That sounds cheesy, but it's true. I care more than is probably healthy…**

**I mean, honestly. Hearing from you guys is the reason I'm still writing and posting this (also, this story is like my child…Nearly 300 pages!!) But you readers made it happen and I'm excited to start the end of our journey together.**

**You are all amazing.**

**Thank you.**

**~Immy**

* * *

Finding the other men was a piece of cake. As soon as she pulled the car around to the back lot, she was able to spot four or five of them, lounging against the bus, chatting casually to each other. Sometimes they'd help someone step on, if a superior pointed the person their way, and this made Jess go cold. They were taking on _hostages_?!

"What are you doing?" she asked as soon as she parked the ambulance beside them—not as easy a task as it sounded—and left it. Instead of answering, the men simply shrugged at her, as though to say, "What does it look like?" and helped an old lady step onboard. Jess sighed.

Whatever the Joker was planning, there was little she could do about it. So, she leaned against the side of the bus next to Jackson, folded her arms and waited.

* * *

As it turned out, Jess didn't have to wait very long before being launched into action. The hour the Joker had allowed for Reese's death was over in a flash and, as Jess sat down in the driver's seat of the bus—now loaded with around fifty prisoners, none of whom had even the _slightest_ inkling about their current predicament (which, if nothing else, added some rather amusing irony to the situation)—a walkie-talkie crackled from the console beside her.

"Uh, this is Alpha Fox to Yellow-hawk. Come in Yellow-hawk." Jess heard a distinct chuckle, cut off as the owner of the other walkie-talkie took his finger off the button mid-laugh.

He was just _so _amused with himself.

Immediately, like an afterthought, it crackled again. "Uh, over."

Jess stared at it. Besides the patients, their visitors and a few reporters, Jess was the only one in the bus. The other members of the Twenty were outside doing odd jobs and one of them, probably Jackson, had left his radio here.

Just as she was determining whether ignoring the Joker's call or answering it would land the man to whom the device belonged in more trouble, the two-way radio crackled again, making her decision for her.

"Hello? Any time here, Yellow-hawk. We are, uh… in a _bit_ of a hurry…" He hung up, then came back in again, as if suddenly remembering he was trying to follow proper radio etiquette. "Over."

She grabbed the radio from the console and leaned back against the driver's side window, slinging her leg over the armrest.

"Hi there, Alpha Fox," she said, lowering the pitch of her voice to something smooth and provocative, trying to impersonate a phone-sex hotline operator. "Is there _anything_ at _all_ I can do for you?" She had to stifle a giggle before purring, "Over."

It took a few seconds for the Joker to answer.

"What _exactly_ are you doing, Jesster?" But he sounded amused. Jess laughed.

"Someone left the walkie-talkie in here. What should I tell them?"

"Is, uh… is _everyone _loaded?" the Joker asked.

Jess glanced towards the back of the bus, to where the men were loitering, smoking cigarettes. She jumped up and ordered them to get in.

"They are now," she told the walkie-talkie once the men had loaded themselves and stood with her at the open back door of the bus, surrounded by the rowdy crowd of hostages.

"Where's Dent?" one of the men asked mildly.

"Good, good," the Joker said. "Get ready to drive, Jesster. I'll see you _soon_. Over and, uh… _out_."

"Wait!" Jess wailed into the radio. "What do you mean, _drive_?" But there was no reply. She cast a panicked glance at the five men, all of whom shrugged in turn. "Can someone else take this one?"

The reply was unanimous; each man shook his head.

"The boss charged _you_ with it, Jesster," Jackson said. "Maybe he's got a reason for it."

"No he doesn't!" she said, shaking her head, sounding like a child but not really caring. "I pissed him off in the ambulance and now he's trying to get back at me by making me do something he knows'll make me anxious! I can't drive a _bus_!"

"Be that as it may," Seth said, "I think I speak for everyone when I say I'm not gonna risk going against the boss's orders. Now you'd better get to your seat because…"

He was suddenly interrupted by an enormous booming explosion from the back end of the building and Jess turned towards it, abandoning all arguments contrary to driving and pushing her way to the front, jumping over outstretched legs cast in plaster, to take a hasty seat behind the wheel.

Her adrenaline was pumping, acid in her veins, and she turned around, straining to see out the back of the vehicle, to where opposite wings of the hospital could now be seen going up in a glorious burst of flames. The hostages were screaming, pointing at the fiery building. She laughed in delight, her knowledge of the hospital's evacuation enough to allow her to find amusement in this.

It had worked. This plan had worked!

"Jess, start the bus," one of the men called from the back, poised to slam the emergency door shut, just waiting for the boss to meet them.

Jess's hand hovered over the ignition key, fixated on the burning building just on the other side of the window, close enough to feel the heat on her skin.

And then there was the Joker, striding from the building holding a comically large remote for the explosives. He skipped down the steps as the hospital crumbled behind him, fireballs leaping into the sky. It was yet another seemingly effortless choreography of chaos and destruction which, Jess now understood, required an incredible amount of time, extensive reconnaissance and painstaking attention to detail in order to execute.

But no one ever said the Joker didn't have a taste for the theatrical.

He continued walking towards the bus, all sweat and triumph and adrenaline and testosterone, and suddenly Jess found herself distracted by the weird sex appeal of him in the nurse's outfit. He was _possibly_ the only man, besides David Bowie, who could actually look _sexy_ in a dress.

There was a pause in the explosions, the cacophony giving way to eerie silence which immediately drew his attention. Confused, the Joker turned around and looked back at the buildings, waiting patiently.

When, after a moment, nothing happened, he raised his arms in a "what the fuck?" gesture, causing Jess to burst into giggles. He then resorted to pushing the remote button feverishly.

"Jess, start the bus!" Jackson called from the back.

Jess was over-stimulated. She frantically reached for the ignition, but again got distracted by a loud booming explosion as the delayed bombs finally detonated.

"Jessica! Start the fucking bus!"

The Joker was hightailing it for the back, and just before he jumped in and slammed the emergency door shut, Jess turned the key and the bus came to life. Gently easing on the gas, the vehicle lurched forward and she began to guide it from the hospital's lot.

The prisoners continued to scream—indeed, they had not stopped—a situation somewhat exacerbated by the sudden appearance of a man generally considered to be a psychotic terrorist, in a dress, topped off with the realization that this was _his_ bus.

Their fucking yelling wasn't helping Jess's already splintered focus, either. It was hard enough to control a huge vehicle. Jess threw off the costume glasses she'd been given and sped up while the men yelled at the prisoners to be quiet or they'd shoot.

It was chaos. She was trying to drive a fucking bus and it was utter pandemonium. The men's threats were not helping, nor was the fact that Jess could hear her own speeding pulse as the blood rushed in her head. Everything was simply adding to the noise.

Finally, Jess could not stand it. She reached up to her left to where the microphone for the bus's PA system hung, grabbed it, and yelled into it, her voice booming throughout the bus.

"If every single one of you does not shut the fuck up _right NOW_, I swear to _God_ you will all be murdered where you sit!"

It worked. The noise of the hostages cut out instantly and the Joker started giggling quietly, from just behind Jess's right ear.

She turned her head slightly and looked at him, standing there with his hand on the back of her seat. He grinned.

"Don't bother me, J," she said, gritting her teeth as she took a sharp left. "I'm trying to drive…"

"Uh… to _where_?"

Jess blinked. She hadn't exactly thought of the destination, but leaving the hospital sounded like a good plan at the moment.

"Away."

Her tone was far more nonchalant than her frenzied emotions. She realized then just how good she was getting at conjuring and displaying a situation-appropriate façade, regardless of how she might actually be feeling. She'd never been able to keep a calm face while her heart was beating out of her chest before but she was certainly learning that particular skill with her ever-increasing exposure to the Joker as time went on.

In his world, rapid adaptation was nothing short of a survival skill.

* * *

In the end, the Joker directed her across a long bridge into a part of town known colloquially as the Narrows. Jess had heard of it, of course—you didn't live in Gotham city for multiple months without hearing of this region, even if you _were_ holed-up in a theater for the majority of your tenure in the city.

This district was the true underbelly of the city; an area thugs, thieves and hobos chose to make their home. Crime was _beyond _rampant. Apparently every single mayor and DA since 1964 had promised in his campaign slogan to "clean up the Narrows," but, until the Batman, there had never been an even _partially_ effective reign of order here.

As it was, the superhero's presence helped only slightly. He'd saved many innocent citizens in this district—usually poorer families or cops—during the Fear Toxin scare a few years ago—the one around which the entire plot of the first Nolan Batman movie rotated—but the place was pretty much just as dirty, crime-ridden and unpleasant as it had always been.

As resourceful, relentless and feared as the Batman may have been, there was only so much one man could do (even _with _his countless civilian impersonators, pitifully equipped and athletically impaired as they were.)

Jess was vaguely surprised that the Joker hadn't chosen to make his home-base in this part of town though, now that she considered it, she supposed it _was_ a little cliché. Almost every dank, poorly lit side street was lined with abandoned warehouses, and the thought of living in a _warehouse_ was horrible.

No one actually _lived_ in warehouses aside from novice crooks wanting to hit the big time (and unlikely to ever do so.)

No. Such places were used when you required a temporary, random, almost assuredly empty space—void of law enforcement but rife with rodents—in which to carry out part of a plan, hold hostages or hide stolen goods. They were rarely used for long and _never_ permanent. Besides, choosing a theater as a home base was pure genius—poetic, in a way—and it had grown on Jess and the Twenty whether they liked it or not.

"Pull in there," the Joker ordered, pointing to a shady, nondescript building in the middle of a long row of equally dingy, unremarkable buildings. His voice was low and slightly hoarse—his focus having clearly returned following the rush of excitement and explosions back at Gotham General—and one long fingered hand rested on Jess's shoulder, using her for balance as she drove.

She loved it when he touched her.

He'd changed into his usual outfit at the back of the bus and, decked out once again in royal purple, he presented his well-known, striking image. The hostages were simply _terrified_.

Once they were parked in a dark alleyway, the Joker pulled Jess through the front door of the bus and stood with his hands on her hips as the members of the Twenty who had met them got busy unloading the hostages, forcing them—weeping or fighting—into the building.

Jess tried not to look at the captives, deciding she wouldn't interact with them or have anything to do with their escape or demise. It was easier that way, better for everyone. It wasn't as though she _truly_ had a voice here. The Joker was going to do what he was going to do, no matter what she said or how much she disapproved. It was easier to just distance herself from it.

But she felt their eyes inevitably stray towards her as they were herded like cattle through the door—of course they looked at her, she was standing next to the Joker—and the looks she found directed at her when she dared to glance up disturbed her deeply. _Never_ had she been looked at in the way these hostages were regarding her now: a distinct combination of fear, disgust and _hate_, as though she'd betrayed _each and every one _of them personally.

She wanted to tell them she hadn't, that it wasn't her fault and that she hadn't been a part of any of it.

But she _had_ been a part—she'd driven the bus, for Christ's sake—and they'd never believe her.

Wasn't this what she wanted, anyway? To be feared, part of this organization, as much an element of the team as any other member of the Twenty…

Wasn't that what she wanted?

Jess turned away from the hostages, a little shaken, and looked up at the Joker who, she realized for the first time, had been watching her.

She settled closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his chest, the smell of him familiar and wonderful.

Mad or not, this man was her life and _he _was what she wanted.

The Joker's hands slid down, holding her more tightly to him, laying a silent, incontestable claim. Her mouth found his neck and she kissed it, lips parted, over and over, which made him move in a way that made her think he might be uncomfortable, not sure if he liked the tenderness of the action but taken in by the sexiness.

He didn't stand for it for long, at any rate. Reaching up, he grabbed her face forcefully and led her lips to his, taking her mouth so roughly that Jess knew he'd been waiting to do so for a while. She giggled at the thought, her laugh echoing back at her as he turned her slightly and pushed her into the side of the bus, thinking her gasp of surprise was simply hilarious.

Their kiss turned even wilder and Jess started to take heaving breaths as the Joker's tongue did indecent things inside her mouth. She clutched at his jacket, forgetting the hostages who, by this time, had disappeared inside the building, focusing only on this man she was lucky enough to be kissing.

The Joker's spread fingers tapped and danced their way downwards along her hips, then her outer thighs, one hand sliding between her legs to widen her stance as he pressed against her. Slowly, he inched her skirt up, bunching the fabric against her sides.

Jess's hands swept down his torso, forgetting now that they were even outside, against a school bus, in the Narrows—possibly the least elegant place in the world—with some of the team waiting for them in the warehouse beyond and the rest of the team due to show up at any moment.

She didn't care. The Joker had a way of overriding rational thought and forcing her attention towards something emotional and physical. Was that the way he lived every day? His every ambition seemed to stem from desire—that hot, superseding feeling—and the longing to do whatever he had to do in order to feel _good_.

Given whatever psychological issues he surely had, feeling good would seem, to him, a feat requiring almost impossible effort. No wonder he did the things he did.

His gloved hands slid under her dress as she hooked her thumbs over his beltline and forced their bodies together, which drew a grunt of surprise and arousal from him, her exact intention.

The Joker's lips dropped down along the side of her face to her neck, leaving a trail of kisses and bites as he went, then even lower, towards her collarbone. The way he was progressing, Jess doubted he would stop making his way down her body anytime soon, and the thought left her breathless, coupled with the fear of someone coming out and catching them in such an intimate position.

He'd just reached her stomach when the sound of a car pulling in on the other side of the bus made him stop, turn his head to listen, and get off his knees to straighten up. Not sparing her another glance, suddenly interested only in the newcomers, the Joker crept around the side of the large vehicle to see who it was.

He disappeared after a moment, obscured by the great yellow hood of the bus, but Jess heard car doors slam and familiar voices.

"…a hell of a time getting here." It was Blake, who'd rendezvoused with the Jaguar.

Jess sighed. Now there was a very slight chance for sex, if a chance at all, and here she was, all flustered and unkempt. She smoothed her dress back into place and decided to simply enter the building.

It was dark inside—as befitted a warehouse—but the few men present had made the best with the limited ambient materials present. Someone had found a switch and a single bulb had been illuminated high up in the rafters, the smattering of dim light it provided hardly doing anything to dispel the shadows.

The hostages had been gathered under this light, huddling close from fear, most of their hands and feet tied together, gags stuffed in their mouths, while the men walked around them slowly, trying to look menacing with guns over their arms. Jess entered and Jackson flashed her a wink and a cheeky grin, which she returned before coming to a halt just in front of the prisoners and regarding them with a face she hoped could convey that she didn't know or care what was going to befall them.

The not-knowing was easy. The not-caring took some work.

A few of them looked up at her, wary and attentive, as though she was going to deliver some villainous speech explaining her evil plan. Jess smiled at the thought and raised her eyebrows at a young woman in the crowd, whose gaze immediately fell to the floor.

And there it was: that feeling of power that Jess had quite grown to love. These people were frightened of her, would do whatever she told them to simply because they were tied up and she was not. She didn't even have a _gun_! All she had was the fact that she had driven a bus and stood next to the Joker without being murdered.

And yet these people assumed that she was just as dangerous as her surroundings.

Was she? Did the fact that she'd survived this make any difference?

Jess looked back on her time in Gotham. No, she doubted _she'd_ really been the one ensuring her survival. There had always been someone else looking out for her, some pity given or mind changed at the last moment that had allowed her to live another day.

It was getting better, of course. Jess could feel, as her understanding of the way this world worked grew, her life settling into her own hands and the decisions she made actually drawing her _farther_ from death. She'd never really been an integrated whole with her environment, but she could feel that happening, though she remained wary of the plight that becoming _too_ comfortable or cocky might bring.

Often in life, Jess had learned, the perception of control was just that: an illusion which could be shattered on a whim. This was especially true in Gotham—more so with the Joker for company, of this much Jess was certain

Sooner or later, she would be just as dangerous, sure and savvy as any one of the Twenty, perhaps even on par with one of Gotham's bosses. It was only a matter of time and learning.

So, yes, she decided. These people _did_ have something to fear from her. She wished them no harm, but she'd do what she had to if things got bad.

"Wheel it in there!"

Jess started. How long had she been standing there, staring at the group of hostages? The guards didn't look bothered, so it couldn't have been _that_ long…

She'd been doing that more and more often—losing track of her surroundings as she went back off into her head. It almost scared her.

She turned to see what the men were wheeling in, and saw more than one large piece of machinery: a huge fan, a floodlight and…

A camcorder?

Jess tilted her head as the video camera was set up on a tripod and a crowd of men spilled through the door behind her. Apparently the ambulance had shown up shortly after the Jaguar. The rest of the Twenty had arrived.

Maneuvering her way through the men now loitering around, greeting each other amiably, some staring at the hostages, Jess found Blake, the man with all the answers.

That was becoming truer, too, she realized. As the days passed, Blake had somehow been elevated to a position that could almost be called second in command to the Joker. He seemed to know nearly as much about what they were doing as the boss, who tended to charge him with the most important tasks. He'd proven himself a loyal and trustworthy employee, after all, and he was _very_ good at what he did.

"I have some questions," she told him, sidling up alongside him as he pointed towards where the huge fan should go.

Jess stared at it. Why was _that_ here?

"I'll bet you do, princess," Blake laughed, slinging an arm over her shoulder and guiding her across the room to make sure the floodlight had been set up. "Ask away. We've got time."

"Where'd you get a camera?" was the first thing that popped out of her mouth. This was not the shaky hand held recorder the Joker had used a few months ago while interrogating Brain Douglas. This thing was big, official looking.

In answer, Blake pointed towards the hostages, to a man in a black suit with short, graying hair. Jess vaguely recognized him.

"Picked it up with him. That's Mike Engel, from…"

"Gotham Tonight, yeah," Jess said, staring at the shaking newscaster.

"He was covering footage of the blast and, it just so happened, jumped into our bus. Lucky break, huh?" Blake grinned and Jess nodded, sure somehow that it wasn't a lucky break at all.

"The fan and the light?" Jess asked. "What's he planning with them?"

"Oh, now, Jesster," came the Joker's voice—sudden as ever—and Jess looked to her left as he approached them.

Blake immediately took his arm from around her shoulder, allowing the boss to pull her towards him by the waist, giving Blake what could only be described as a dark look. Not necessarily grave, but dark.

"_That_ would ruin the _surprise_," he continued. "You'll see soon enough." He paused for a moment, examining Blake, running his tongue along his teeth behind his closed lips, before saying, "Oh, uh, _Blakey_… we need more makeup. Ask Billy Boy if he has any and if he _doesn't_, find it somewhere else. Mr. Engel needs to be ready for his, uh…" he smacked his lips, "_close-up_."

Jess found it very hard to keep from laughing at the Joker's brief, almost hidden, dig at Billy, especially given the irony of the fact that the Clown Prince himself was the one decked out in face paint.

Blake's mouth twitched, too, and he nodded and strode away, leaving the Joker to dig his grip suddenly into Jess's arm and spin her to face him.

"Now," he said quietly, pulling her against his body and lowering his head towards hers, "where _were_ we? Hm?"

Jess suddenly found herself weighing the pros and cons of a situation which, before, would have seemed exceedingly simple. Before, she would simply have kissed him, perhaps allowed him to take her to find a dark room or corner and give them both exactly what they wanted.

But she was feeling playful—she had been for the entire day—and she wanted to see _just_ how far she could go before he'd get really annoyed. He'd been remarkably blasé about her teasing as of late; he'd even seemed to have found enjoyment in it. Apart from a growl or two, they'd really been getting along for quite a while.

It was odd, but Jess wanted to test just how much she'd have to do to spark conflict with him. She enjoyed being able to relax around him, but if she knew his limits, she could use them to her advantage.

There was always going to be that battle between them, she knew. He had all the power and she desired more than anything else the chance to be his equal. Sometimes, for brief moments, she got that satisfaction.

This was going to be one of those moments.

"Don't you have work to do?" she asked, her tone boldly impertinent.

She made to turn away, but as soon as she had her back to him Jess felt the Joker's vice-like grip on her hair, pulling her forcibly back to him. She yelped in surprise, hearing the squeak of his leather gloves as he ground his fist into the back of her head and pushed her forward roughly, taking no pains for her comfort. Jess squealed weakly and grabbed his hand, trying to work his tangled fingers from her locks.

The Joker merely ignored her protests and strode them into the darkness near the walls of the warehouse, the towers of dusty boxes casting shadows black enough to conceal them from the men gathered under the lights.

He threw her face-first against the wall, jamming his body hard along her back and twisting one of her arms between their forms. His other hand released her hair and ran slowly down her body as he inhaled slowly through his nose.

Jess whimpered, leaning away from the concrete, but he slammed her quickly back against it, his face pressed close her ear.

"_I_ think…" he whispered, "_you_ need to learn your _place_. Hm?"

His lips fluttered down her jaw to her neck, kissing her hair, twisting his fingers in it.

"J…" Jess groaned, the air being pushed out of her lungs by the pressure his full weight.

She was starting to get truly scared, the feelings reminiscent of her first dealings with him. He hadn't shown this kind of aggression for quite a while, but she, too, had been relatively complacent as of late.

Apparently, rejection struck a nerve with him.

"_Yes_?" the Joker hissed in her ear, sucking the lobe briefly into his mouth.

"You're… crushing… me," she gasped, trying to shake out from under him, the words "stuck between a rock and a hard place" echoing in her head.

Panic welled up and she fought harder, twisting her arms futilely against his incredibly stalwart grip. He steadied her, jamming his body against hers with even more pressure, still kissing her neck. Tears started leaking from her eyes, a dam she was trying with all her might to keep from breaking.

"Seriously," Jess wheezed, accidentally letting loose a sob, "I can't… breathe…"

"Oh _can't_ you?" the Joker asked, slamming her once again against concrete. "Then _why_ are you still _talking_?"

Jess tried to wheeze in a gasp, but fear and panic were mounting. Her head was buzzing from a lack of oxygen and he didn't seem ready to stop. This was her punishment. She was a fool not to have expected it.

Of course, as soon as Jess assumed his plan was to let her faint, he pulled away, turned her around violently and pressed her back against the wall, leaning against her, his hands skittering along her face as he leaned forward, inhaled and gave her a wet kiss on the mouth. Jess was still attempting to recover some brain cells, and her vision went white as soon as oxygen rushed into her lungs, so she was relatively unaware for the first few seconds of his kiss and didn't raise a hand to push him off.

He pulled back smiling, only his eyes showing the extreme rage behind his actions. He shook as he held her, some part of him holding back from being exactly as violent with her as he wished he could be.

Jess knew him better than that though. The man was a ticking bomb. It was only going to be a matter of time before he exploded.

She was suddenly filled with a rage at her reaction to him, at his ability to terrify her.

Who the _fuck _was he to do that?

She was giving him _everything_! She did everything with _him_ in mind!

She was possibly the only person on this earth to truly treat him with kindness, to _love_ him, and he treated her like _this_?!

The dizziness receding, Jess let loose a noise of rage muffled by his persistent mouth and braced her arms against his shoulders, just about to attempt to fight him away. Before she got half a chance, however, he grabbed both her wrists together in one large hand and wrenched her forward, pulling her after him through the darkness of the vast warehouse, to its only back hallway and the room therein.

The space into which she was thrown was as dark as everywhere else, so that Jess could not make out any details of it, but the Joker seemed to know exactly where he was going. This confused Jess for a moment. Had he been here before?

After a second of stumbling through the black room, being dragged like a prisoner, Jess was thrown roughly onto a meager pile of what felt like ratty old pillows and threadbare blankets. The Joker climbed on top of her immediately, hands gripping her hips as he buried his face in her neck and breathed deeply, his open mouth sliding along her skin.

Jess didn't know what had come over him, but it horrified her. Usually, when dealing with these kinds of actions from her, the Joker would punish her back by either showing her _exactly_ how much physical damage he could do or by ignoring her, making her sorry she'd rejected him.

This passionate, rough ride he was instigating here was simply too… frenzied. He was unthinking. She could feel that in his breath.

She didn't _think_ he'd ever stoop to actually _raping_ her, but he was trying to teach her some kind of lesson. She'd set him off and the thing that scared her most was the fact that it was impossible to know just how far he'd take this before he considered her lesson learned.

Jess cried out as his hands searched the skin under her dress, clutching hard enough to leave bruises. While he sucked the skin on her neck into his mouth, one had traveled down to her inner thigh, burning as he squeezed it, making some kind of claim.

Jess kicked out, trying to catch his stomach with a heel, but the hand on her thigh caught her leg around the knee and tugged, pulling her body into a more submissive position, her legs kicking helplessly on either side of him. Jess gasped and pressed her hands against his face, trying to rip him away, but his kissing only became more hysterical.

It was almost as though he was trying to _convince_ her of something, get her to give in. He didn't seem aware that this had gone too far, that she wasn't playing coy or submissive. This wasn't some kind of game.

He didn't seem to understand that she was truly scared.

"J," she cried, her hands tugging at his hair, trying uselessly to roll into a position where she could crawl away from him. "Stop it, J! This…" she gasped as he tried to push her dress forcibly up her torso. "This is _not_ okay!" She could hear the crack in her voice, terror and adrenaline leading her to rip at him and wiggle her way from under him.

"Jesster," the Joker gasped, almost mildly, "you keep squirming like that, this might be over sooner than you'd like."

He could only manage a breathless wheezing laugh, which turned into a moan as her hips collided with his.

"God _dammit_, J," Jess shrieked. "I'm _serious_! Get _off_!"

He laughed like she was kidding.

"I plan to," he said, breaking into a giggle and going right back to trying to undress her.

Finally, Jess managed to hook a foot solidly into his side and push his shoulder back roughly with a hand in the same violent gesture. He fell away with a grunt, landing solidly against the concrete floor. Jess couldn't see his face, whether the expression on it was one of confusion or anger, but she used his momentary distraction to jump up, pull down her dress and race from the room.

She walked fast and silently through the main warehouse, knowing her face was red and sweaty, her hair was a mess and her eyes were still leaking tears.

"Hey Jesster!" someone—she couldn't see who—called amiably, not aware of the state she was in.

She covered her face with a hand and picked up the pace, racing towards the door, ripping it open and escaping to the cool evening air outside.

* * *

**I would love reviews, even though I don't deserve them for taking so long. Forgive me?**

**You all are SO awesome.**

**Seahorses. Forever.**


	31. Chapter 31

**See. I proved it to you. I totally delivered on my promise to post this quickly! Thus, you can reward me with lovely reviews! **

**Thank you SO much for all your kind words, and, again, just so you know, I will NOT abandon this story. I will see it through to its completion for all of you (and for my own vicarious needs!) I love all you readers.**

**As always, huge shout out to my absolutely incredible beta, **Tamara Evans**! I love you, girly! Seriously, guys, you have NO idea how much she does for this story. We'll get into hour long conversations on characterization, and I HIGHLY suggest you go read her fic "**_Scourge_**" because it is SO amazing (and I beta it).**

**Another shout out goes to someone I don't even think reads my story. **BCooper**'s fic "**_Grave_**" is one of the best stories on this site. It absolutely blew my mind, and I hope you all go read and review for her because she REALLY inspired me to take this story in a slightly darker direction, as well as inspiring me to do the best I can possibly do as a writer.**

**And this is where my warning comes in: This story WILL continue to get darker and darker, despite the few chapters we have left. I hope you're all ready for it! :D**

**I wrote and edited this chapter while listening obsessively to "Bad Romance" by Lady Gaga, which is extremely surprising. I know she's a pop star, and I don't listen to pop that much, but this song really impressed me and it ABSOLUTELY works for this story! I love it. AND it references Alfred Hitchcock, which is extremely badass. So, I guess another shout out goes to Lady Gaga. Thank yop, you weird, weird woman.**

**Review!! I love you all!!**

* * *

Jess sprinted down the empty road, turning corner after corner simply to distance herself from the place she'd come. She couldn't even feel her lungs burn or her legs pump as the lasting effects of adrenaline surged through her and tears flooded her eyes.

She ran as far as she could before sense caught up with her.

Jess stumbled to a stop in the middle of deserted asphalt, surrounded on all sides by blank, silent, identical warehouses. Staring around helplessly, she draped her arms around her body and hitched, hitched again and started to sob, tears turning into a steady torrential downpour.

Unable to control the sadness and fright now assaulting her system, Jess bent over to rest her hands on her knees, trying to steady herself as harsh wails wracked her body.

She couldn't remember ever being so terrified of him, even back when they'd first met. At the beginning, she hadn't had any idea what to expect from him, was on guard for anything. She'd let that guard drop as their relationship, if that's what it was, progressed—a mistake.

It was surprisingly, horrifyingly painful when he completely shattered the trust she placed in him.

She had put herself in his hands, and he did this to her!

Jess thought back only minutes earlier, to the feeling of being trapped, so innately weak as his fingers grazed her skin and he kissed her feverishly, against her will.

Jess was certain that he hadn't _intended_ to force himself on her; that was hardly the issue. He had likely been operating under the assumption that she was playing an elaborate game of hard-to-get. Nonetheless, she'd been in physical distress, she had yelled for him to stop, and he did not heed her objections. Jess realized that, true to form, the Joker did not respect her physical boundaries at all, after being so comfortable with crossing them in the past when she had permitted and even welcomed the intrusions.

The whole situation made her seethe with anger.

Why hadn't he just _quit it_?!

She'd thought she'd learned to predict him.

He'd shown her just how dangerous that idea was.

Jess moaned and crumpled to the ground, not caring that she was now effectively seated in the middle of the road. The sky was overcast and cool, a mild wind fingering her hair.

She couldn't run. Where would she go? He'd find and kill her before she got anywhere. No one would ever help her; there was no one she knew that could.

And besides, the very idea of leaving all of this, making it on her own, never seeing Blake or Keith or even Billy again…

It was so painful.

But there was a possibility even worse, and that was the awful thing...

The concept of never seeing the Joker again—the idea of this being the end, of never receiving an explanation and never being allowed to forgive him—was possibly the single most appalling fate she could imagine.

But he wouldn't want her forgiveness, she knew.

She wished he would let her absolve everything…

But he'd never say _sorry_.

That was all she wanted to hear. If he said _sorry_, just once, she would hold on to it until the end of the world. It would excuse everything he'd ever done or would do… if only he told her, truly, that he was sorry for the pain he was causing. If he ever let on that he cared…

She wanted him to. She wanted him to care more than anything in the world. But she really couldn't see how he did.

Was she just sex to him? Did she _mean_ anything?

She didn't know, probably never _would_ know.

This was so hard…

Jess cried, her makeup running down her cheeks, smearing black along her hands as she feebly rubbed at her eyes, hugging her knees to her chest.

"I can't do this," she told herself between sobs. "I can't do this… I can't do this anymore…"

A car horn blared just behind her and Jess jumped, spinning to look around at a sleek green vehicle which had been forced to a stop by the obstacle her prostrate form presented. She scrambled to her feet, spotting the tint of the windshield—too dark to be legal—and the hand of the driver extending from his newly rolled-down window, a gun in the palm, a smoking cigarette between two fingers. He gestured at her, vaguely threatening, and she caught the green and gold glint of the ring he wore on his hand.

She frowned and squinted at his jewelry. It almost looked like there was a golden question mark at the center of the ring…

Then, he steadied the gun at her.

Jess jumped out of the way just before the weapon went off, forgetting her tears and racing for the cover of the warehouses, sprinting for the narrow space between two buildings. The sounds of laughter from the occupants of the car hung on the air behind her and wheels screamed against pavement as the vehicle took off.

Jess didn't even glance around as she sprinted down a narrow, shadowed alley, dodging dented trash bins and broken pieces of the buildings on either side. Before her, flanked by warehouses as a barrier between this street and the next, was a tall chain link fence. Jess halted before it only momentarily—she was still aware of the car behind her, honking, the people inside shouting threatening phrases her way—and kicked off her heels, tossing them over the fence before mounting it.

The speed with which she scaled the barrier was startling even to her, but she accidentally let one leg buckle as she landed on the other side. Biting back a scream as a bloody gash opened across her knee, Jess wasted little time before grabbing her shoes and racing across the gravelly vacant lot, now searching desperately for her building of origin.

She heard the mysterious green car in the distance, rounding a corner, closing in on her, and she dashed down the street. For a reason far beyond her comprehension, the people in the vehicle were chasing her.

Why? She had no idea.

Jess veered abruptly into another shadowy alley when she saw the car turn the corner ahead, trying to cut her off. The driver spotted her, of course, and accelerated, striving to see exactly where she was headed.

She ran down the pathway, hearing the vehicle squeal into a U-turn in order to intercept her on the other side, and she had a moment to wonder very seriously _why_ these people were taking time out of their lives to pursue her.

Was she on their turf or something? Did criminals have turf? Did people still use that word?

Before reaching the end of the alley, Jess spotted the yellow school bus on her left and made a mad dash for it, coming to the sudden understanding that being close to the Joker was actually probably safer than being away from him, especially in this place.

The car drove up behind her; she could hear the rev of its engine and the laughter from its occupants.

She was almost at the bus when someone, a third party, grabbed her upper arm and pulled her behind him, leveling a gun at the car and firing three shots. One of the bullets hit the front windshield, leaving a sizeable hole in the glass, and the car immediately pulled into reverse, performing yet another rapid U-turn before speeding away, three more bullets denting its bumper.

She watched it disappear into the distance, rounding a corner with a shriek of its tires.

Once the vehicle was gone, Jess was able to turn from the action and look up at her savior, breathing heavily with adrenaline and pure panic.

"Blake!" she cried, throwing her arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest. Blake was still staring after the car in shock and took a moment to collect himself before looking down at Jess and petting her hair softly as she wept against him.

"Jesus Christ," he whispered. "What did you think you were doing?" He pulled her away from him by the arm, examining her for a moment before demanding, "What the fuck happened to you?!"

Jess looked down at herself, noting just how much of a mess she was. Her dress had snagged on something at some point and there was a sizeable rip in the hem, blood from her knee streaked down her leg, she was sure she had some bruises from the Joker on her neck and other parts of her body, her hair was simply a mess and black makeup mingled with tears as they slid down her cheeks.

Jess hitched, weakly struggling to wipe some dirt off her dress and pat down her hair, attempting to keep from crying and make up some explanation that would be easy for Blake to swallow.

But it was all for naught as soon as Blake's eyes swept down and spotted the bruises left on her thighs by the Joker's fingers. His face crumpling into some kind of helpless understanding, he pulled her into a much-needed embrace, kissing the top of her head while she broke into tears afresh.

"What happened?" he whispered softly. "What'd he do to you?"

Jess found she couldn't explain. She opened her mouth, met Blake's eyes, and her words failed her. He saw this and his eyes grew even more gently comprehending.

"It's okay," he told her. "It's okay. You don't have to say anything, princess. I get it."

An incredible feeling of relief washed over her. She would never have to relive this experience to anyone. Blake knew. He understood. He seemed to have suddenly figured it out, but…

"How?" Jess managed after a moment.

"My sister," Blake—wonderful, powerful Blake—replied. "She went through somethin' similar."

His voice dropped away, letting silence hang on the chilly air.

"What happened to her?" Jess rasped, bunching his shirt comfortingly between her fingers.

Blake never spoke about himself, but he always seemed to know things. She wanted to know why.

He sighed and relaxed into her, arms wound tightly around her waist.

It took him a while before he drew in a deep breath, the memory obviously causing pain. Jess suddenly wished she hadn't asked.

"She ran, like you did," Blake told her. "Didn't get very far either. Then she went back to him." He paused, his silence heavy with years of sadness. "Then she died," he murmured.

Jess squeezed him, more sorry than she could say, feeling personally responsible for dredging this up in him. Very rarely did she think on how hard it was for the rest of the Twenty to do what they did every day, to miss their families and friends, to be affected by the Joker's world, to be thrown into this spiral of madness.

She'd been so childish, so selfish.

She wished she could take it all back.

"He killed her," Blake said. Jess looked up at him. He was still holding her tightly, not wanting to let her go, but his eyes were distant, caught in some lost memory. "So I went to him and tried to make him pay for it. But he was ready for me." Blake looked down suddenly, eyes catching Jess's. "You ever wonder how I got this scar?" he asked, pointing to the jagged disfigurement running from his forehead, across his left eye, to his cheekbone.

Jess stared at him for a moment, taken in by the depth of emotion on his face. She'd never seen Blake with much less than a smile and the fact that now his eyes were brimming with such deep misery was enough for her to want to save him, help him, make him forget his pain.

Jess reached up slowly, watching Blake's expression flicker from one of sorrow to faint confusion, then to something like hope as she gently grazed his left cheekbone, feeling the raised texture of the end of the scar there.

"Someone _did_ this to you?" she whispered, unable to conceptualize it fully.

She'd always assumed it had been an accident, a car wreck or drunken bar fight…

"Yeah," Blake said, closing his eyes and turning his face into her palm as though he were ashamed to have her touch his blemish. "Did it slow, too. Calculating-like. Fucker pinned me to the ground and just…" He swallowed and Jess pressed her hand against his face, her thumb making comforting circles against his cheek. "It was a knife. Big, shiny knife like you see in horror movies. A kitchen knife."

Jess made a small sound of grief and slid her hand down to his neck, pulling herself closer to him in an warm hug. Blake's eyes opened.

"I'm so sorry," Jess whispered into his chest.

"Nah, princess," he replied, his tone attempting to be light. The crack in his voice however, the deep resonant emptiness, told her he was far from it. "It was a long time ago. I learned my lesson about how to deal with guys like him."

"Guys like the Joker," Jess said bitterly, her terror beginning to turn to hot anger.

How _dare_ he!

"Unfortunately, no," Blake said.

Jess frowned and looked up into his eyes. He glanced back at the warehouse and let his grip on her relax, staring towards the darkness of the entryway.

"No, Joker ain't no Jimmy. What we have on our hands, now, is a horse of a different color. Jimmy ran on rage, on this hunt for power. The Joker…" he shrugged, paused, and started anew abruptly, needing to change the course of his explanation in order to explicate in full. "See, I'm starting to realize that, while people _think_ they know what the boss is about, they're dead wrong. All of 'em. Ordinary folks, like we used to be, they just throw these labels on him. They… I don't know, Jess… They…"

"They try to justify him," Jess said, nodding. "In their own way, they do. They make these assumptions concerning his motives based off whatever they think is rational. Yeah."

"Right," Blake said. "But the Joker… he's not a rational guy. I can't figure out any way to deal with him besides loyalty." Blake pressed his lips together for a moment. "The Joker ain't no Jimmy," he repeated.

Jess sniffed.

"No advice for me, then?" she asked. Blake chuckled sadly.

"Concerning the boss?" he said. "None whatsoever. All I know is, Jimmy killed Malia and the Joker ain't no Jimmy. Maybe that means something for you, maybe it doesn't."

Jess sighed.

"I wish I understood him," she said. Blake shook his head.

"Sad thing is, princess… You're probably the closest one to it."

* * *

The two of them stayed outside talking for a long time, mostly about Blake's past, something he seemed almost glad to share. Many events in his former life were still causing him a lot of pain, but he mentioned that it felt good to reveal them to her.

"You know how to talk, kiddo," he told her, "but you're not bad at the listening part, either."

Jess had the distinct impression that he very rarely got the chance to impart any of this. People never saw this side of Blake—the mask of rough strength behind which he hid was enormously thick—but it made her affection for him deepen. He would always be wonderful, powerful Blake, only now he seemed a bit more human.

He didn't allow the sharing to go on for too long, however. Jess would have been content to sit and talk with him all day, forget about the crime going on in the warehouse behind them, but Blake was tethered to his duty and, she was coming to find out, his loyalty towards the boss. He deeply respected him, she realized. Even though his methods were terrifying and Blake couldn't understand _why_ they were doing what they were doing for the most part, he knew that the Joker was some kind of genius and that it would be in his best interest to follow him wherever he went.

Jess thought it must be hard for the Twenty. She could blame lust or love. They had to question, every day, why they didn't simply attempt to overpower or even abandon their employer.

"We need to go back inside," Blake said, wrapping his arm around her and beginning to steer her towards the door.

A rush of fear hit Jess and she locked up her legs, resisting his pull like a defiant child.

"You go," she said hurriedly. "I'll stay here." Blake's lips tightened and he turned to face her, his expression stern.

"You're not gonna be able to hide from him from long," he told her bluntly. "You're part of this team, Jesster, and, whether or not you believe it, you're an _important_ part. I'm not gonna let you leave, so the Joker will find you sooner or later. You want it to be on his terms or yours?"

This struck a chord in Jess, so resonant that she forgot her fear for a moment and became suddenly angry with herself. The Joker had scared her—not so surprising, he did that a lot—but instead of taking a breather and returning to the battle, Jess had been entertaining ideas of simply _giving up_.

That was _not_ acceptable.

She was here and she was doing this. She wasn't going to allow him to begin walking all over her again, making her jump and cower whenever he entered a room. Sure, what he'd put her through today had probably been the most intense, hopeless experience of her life. But the fact was, she'd _escaped_ it! And, against her better judgment, she felt no different in regards to him.

For better or for worse, her stubborn heart remained fixated on the same incorrigible man, though her feelings were becoming tempered by her didn't know _why _he'd done what he did, but she felt at her core that his motive hadn't been to truly damage certainty comforted her the tiniest bit.

This power-play with him was still going on, by God. She'd attempted to spite him and he'd one-upped her, but it was no reason to drop the game Jess was honestly starting to enjoy.

Squaring her shoulders, feeling newly empowered, Jess followed Blake into the warehouse.

* * *

It looked as though some kind of film shoot had just taken place; the camera had been set on the tripod and one of the hostages was slumped on the ground before it, papers scattered around him as the huge fan continued to blow cold air at his shivering form.

Jess walked up to him, regarding him curiously, and recognized him suddenly as Mike Engel, the reporter… with garish clown grease paint smeared over his features. He timidly looked up at her, hesitant, as though simply doing so would send her into a murderous fury. Jess kept her expression neutral as she met his eye, then strode towards him to pick up one of the papers around him.

He flinched when she bent down next to him and Jess scoffed, removing the sheet from the floor and reading the words written there in large red marker, set down by a familiar spidery hand.

"You failed to kill the lawyer," she read aloud, watching Engel shudder at the words he had obviously been forced to deliver into the camera. "I've got to get you off the bench and into the game. So here it is…"

The text stopped there, having filled up the page, and Jess searched the ground for the next bit of the message. She grabbed two more pieces of paper.

One, which seemed to be the introduction to the speech, simply read: _I'm Mike Engel from Gotham Tonight. What does it take to make you people want to join in?_

The end of the message Jess read out loud again, both delighted and horrified by what the Joker seemed to be proposing.

"Come nightfall, this city is mine, and anyone left here plays by my rules. If you don't want to be in the game…" She paused and glanced up to smile at the shaking Engel. "Get out now." Jess chuckled at the Joker's dramatic style and ran a hand through her hair before reading what was left on the paper. "But the bridge-and-tunnel crowd are in for a surprise."

So he'd made his threat into a camera that was sure to be broadcast on GCN. Jess looked down at the remaining sheets scattered around the camera and Engel. All of them, without exception, seemed to be scrawled with large, spiky red letters that simply announced "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA."

She was angry with him, but she couldn't help feeling a little fond of him, if only for his wicked cunning.

"You like it, Jesster?"

Speak of the devil.

His calm voice came from behind her, cracking softly, and a long spidery hand rested gently on her shoulder.

Jess jumped violently, unable to keep from doing so, and ducked her shoulder away from his hand, spinning around to face him and backing up. The Joker regarded her sternly for a moment, his full lips compressed into a tight line, his lanky form relaxed, the only hints of his irritation evident in the tightening muscles of his hands as his fingers clenched and unclenched.

Jess stared back at him, surprised and horrified that he had dared to touch her.

Had she not let him _know_ well enough? Didn't he _understand_? She didn't want to be _near_ him right now! She allowed betrayal and anger to form the lines of her expression, meeting his eye, finding strength in this silent, shaking rage.

And the Joker noticed, of course. He watched her momentarily, a fluttering hand reaching up to push away the light curls which hung, tousled, over his eyes, before raising his eyebrows and turning away to look at Engel, muttering only a quiet, slightly disconcerted "Hm…" at her behavior.

He approached the reporter, who whimpered and flinched away from his reach, and bent down, grasping the man's lapel in his gloved fingers.

"Well," he said jovially, "time to move!"

Engel let out a cry despite himself and the Joker hooted as he hauled the smaller man to his feet, pulling him close and steering him towards the rest of the hostages. Jess heard him start to speak to Engel furtively, into his ear, as though they were good friends.

"See, the little lady's feeling kind of _upset_ right now." He paused, threw a dour glance back at Jess, then looked toward the reporter again and continued, "She's _mad_ at me… but," he sighed, faux-wistful, "what do you do… Women, right?" Of course, the Joker had scarcely finished before starting to laugh outrageously.

Reaching the captives, he slapped Engel on the back and pushed him down into the crowd, the poor man letting out a cry of terror as he fell gracelessly on top of two or three other people.

Jess folded her arms, torn between feeling so angry she could scream at his fucking pig-headedness and a little charmed by his very nature. God, she was so in love with him she didn't know what to do. She wished there was some way to back out of this now… how could she feel so deeply for this… _madman_?!

He'd wormed his way first into her brain, then into her body, then into her heart.

Looking back now, it was easy to notice what she hadn't before: that he'd targeted her from the start. She found it very hard to believe that he thought as little about her as he implied. She wouldn't be here if she wasn't in his thoughts almost constantly.

Jess smiled at the idea of plaguing him like that and wondered how he felt about her anger with him. This kind of antagonism was new, after all. Their previous fights now seemed like petty squabbles and Jess, to some extent, could understand that he had laughed at her then.

But he wasn't laughing now—trying to make light of it, but not laughing—and it greatly pleased her that, at the very least, he understood that what he had done would not be forgiven so simply.

And certainly not in the ways he had made her forgive him before, by slamming her against a wall and using his mouth to force her to.

She watched as he circled the hostages, speaking easily and quietly with a few members of the Twenty gathered around. One of them, Jackson, made him chuckle—not loud and mocking, but quietly, under his breath—and clap a hand on his shoulder in an odd sign of something like affection. Jackson looked to the ground as soon as the Joker strode away, obviously bashfully pleased.

Jess got angry again, watching him, so nonchalant, at ease and normal after what had just happened. He didn't know that she had been chased by that awful car, of course, but he could at least _pretend_ to feel a little ashamed of himself for all but forcing himself on her.

Her hands clenched, unkempt nails biting into the flesh of her palms as she surveyed him, making no effort to hide her death glare which, if seen, would surely get her into trouble.

He didn't like when people looked at him wrong. But she was past the point of giving a flying fuck.

As if to illustrate Jess's thoughts, the Joker, on his round about the group, reached out and playfully swatted the hair of a young woman, who had her knees pulled up to her chest in a pathetic display of terror. A young man beside her—tall, the sporty type, with short blond hair and powerful biceps; probably a high school football player—lurched into action at this, reflexively striking up at the Joker as the girl squealed into her knees.

Sighing deeply through his nose, the Ace of Knaves leaned back to survey the miscreant, allowing the boy time to wonder what he was going to do before he bent down and hauled the hostage to his feet, regardless of the fact that the young man was wearing a full leg cast.

The boy cringed and stumbled, the eyes flicking up to meet the Joker's filled only with foolish rage and repulsion. Obviously, the boy had more guts than brain cells. Jess remembered him as one of the strugglers when they had entered the warehouse.

And, boy, was he pissed to be here. He was, quite literally, shaking from a mix of rage and fear, the latter probably only serving to increase his fury. Jess could remember this feeling from her past experiences with the Joker: anger at one's self for being so profoundly terrified of this _clown_.

It made you want to kill him, but you knew you were practically hopeless, and that made the fury white-hot until you did something stupid to release a portion of it.

This boy? This boy was ready to do something _stupid_.

Taking no care for the comfort of the young man's leg, the Joker made him stand while he started to ask questions, his red-painted mouth inches from his victim's face. The boy only sneered as the Clown Prince interrogated him, eyebrows furrowed as he forced yes or no answers through shaking lips, the hands tied in front of his body squirming in their bonds.

Jess moved a little closer, interested in what the Joker was saying to the kid. It was making his face grow red. He cast his eyes cast to the ground as the criminal breathing sour breath onto his face did everything in his power to break and humiliate him.

"How did you _feel_?" she heard the Joker asking, ever the psychoanalyst. "Did it _scare_ you, David? Hm? Did you start praying to _Jesus_?" He giggled. "Or-- or did you just cry for your _mommy_?"

The second the word "mommy" left the Joker's mouth, the boy—David—snapped.

Moving with a sort of fierce animal speed, he abruptly cracked his forehead against the Joker's, forcing the clown back, a streak of blood appearing on his brow line. The boy followed his antagonist immediately, literally throwing his body against the boss's, bringing them both to the ground and slamming his bound fists down on him over and over, yelling in rage and exhilaration.

The Joker screamed with laughter as the young man attempted to pummel him, and the rest of the men jumped up from their posts to try to rip the boy away.

They were fast.

Jess was faster.

She'd found herself running towards the action with little to no forethought as soon as the young man had struck, was next to their struggling forms before the rest of the men had time to react.

Something had boiled over inside of her, the product of all that had happened to her in such a short time. Rage was pounding in her veins, white and red and black, unbidden and unfocused, with an intensity that nearly scared her.

She grabbed the boy by his hair, ripping him forcibly off the Joker and onto the floor beside him. David yelled, his hands flying up to attempt to push her hands away, but she kept her grip on him, shaking him back and forth before sending his head towards the ground. He clawed up at her, screaming, specks of spittle hitting her shoes in his hysteria as she stood over him and started to aim violent kicks at his torso and groin. His fury escalated with hers, it seemed; he was almost incomprehensible, his rants coming out more as indistinct growls.

Jess grunted every time her foot collided with him, her vision red with rage, unable to believe that he had _dared_ to do that. _The little fucking worm_…

No one, _no one_, was allowed to even lay a harmful _finger_ on the Joker other than Jess herself. That young man, that _child_, was naïve and stupid enough to believe that he had the _right_ to even _touch_ her man, and he had to be taught a clear lesson.

He was screaming at her now, face red, spittle running down his chin as she continued to kick him in the gut. Jess distinctly caught the words "clown," "bitch," and "slut" before her shoe finally collided with his head in a satisfying way.

It shut him up. His hands flew to his temple and he balled rapidly into a fetal position, heaving a deep gasp before starting to moan quietly in pain.

"Try that again," Jess told him breathlessly, looking down on his crumpled body, "and I'll cut your _fucking _nose off."

Even _she _was taken aback by the awfulness of her words. She glanced up at the men for the first time since beginning her assault on David, noticing that they were all frozen and watching the spectacle.

The Joker was watching her, too, but less still. He bounced a little on the balls of his feet, eyes darting to note every detail of the scene, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other tossing up and catching his favorite little knife. There was no smile on his face any longer; only a stern look of absolutely _intense_ interest, trying to figure out exactly what was going to happen next. His chin was slightly tucked down, and he worked his jaw a little and tongued his scars from the inside, dark eyes fiery and involved.

The sight of him brought a strange sort of anger… She wanted to knock him down and out, make him submit, make _him_ do everything _she_ wanted. Only for a while. A while would last her a lifetime.

Looking back down on the belligerent, stupid teenager in front of her, Jess aimed another kick at his gut.

There was a sudden hand on her arm, pulling her softly away with him. Jess knew that it was probably some concerned member of the Twenty who wanted her to sit down and count to ten but she didn't resist his pull, staring down at David, breathing heavily.

She had exhausted her anger on this boy… and she felt no guilt concerning it.

Turning her back on the victim, Jess found that the hand belonged to Blake—no surprise there—and followed him, knowing that the Joker was watching her retreat as closely as he had watched her attack.

* * *

"Maybe you're right… you should wait outside for a while. We should probably keep most of the hostages alive…"

Jess managed a smile and shook her head at him, taking a deep breath of the cool air and looking across the gravelly lot at the hulking form of the bus. Her head was clearing a little, and it felt better to be out of that warehouse, but every time she thought of the Joker—doing so was inevitable—she felt a surge of anger.

Jess turned back to Blake.

"You can go back in," she told him in a soft voice, not liking the concerned expression with which she was being regarded. "I'm fine now…" She bit her lip. "Sorry about that…"

Blake shook his head as though he was simply at a loss for words by her actions.

"Didn't know you had it in you," he replied, chuckling a little, rubbing the back of his neck.

Jess grinned half-heartedly. He was looking at her like she was something new, as though he'd watched a different Jess come through today.

He was looking at her like he didn't like what he saw.

"Seriously," Jess muttered, getting a little sad that she had unnerved him so thoroughly. "Go back in. He'll be needing you soon."

Blake shrugged, nearly turned around, then thought better of it and came towards Jess quickly, folding her into a loving hug.

"You'll be okay," he whispered, reassuring both himself and her. "You're a strong girl."

Then, without another word, he let go and walked quickly back into the warehouse.

Jess sighed. Today had not been her day.

* * *

She was outside for about fifteen minutes, wandering around the area near the warehouse. She found a pack of cigarettes in the bus and took one, pulling the soothing smoke into her lungs and sighing in content.

Almost as soon as she'd stomped the butt out under her heel, a movement towards the door of the warehouse caught her eye and she watched as a lone figure exited.

The Joker strode into the lot, eyes darting quickly around, first sliding along the contours of the great yellow bus, then moving to her lone form. Jess felt rage swell up at the mere sight of him, strong and insane and powerful enough to override rational thought. She clenched her fists.

"Joker," she snarled, watching his eyebrows dart up.

He put a hand to his chest as though to ask "Me?" then glanced behind him like he was making sure there wasn't another "Joker" to whom she was referring.

Jess was in no mood for his games. The fact that her reactions to him hadn't taken the spring out of his step was enough to infuriate anyone.

"Oh, fuck you," she told him.

His hand dropped, his face grew serious and he stared at her, his fingers waving slowly at his sides as though he was itching to reach for his knife.

"Yeah, you heard me," Jess said, her voice furious but low. "You think you can just _do_ what you did to me and be received with open arms? You stupid _pig… _I can't even stand to _look_ at you right now. Go _away_."

"Go… away?" the Joker said, his tongue moving over the words as though their very shape repulsed him.

Jess watched his mouth twitch as he thought over what she'd said. He wasn't taking this seriously, he was dying to _laugh_ at her!

"Yes," Jess muttered through clenched teeth, her anger increasing as she watched him try to hold in his hilarity. It wasn't that it was unexpected, but she yearned to have her words sting, leave his pride bruised. Instead, she managed to irritate him. And then he seemed to decide it was _funny_. "Leave me _alone_."

He didn't move. He merely stood there, his gaze lowering to the ground as he began to giggle silently, laughter wracking his body. He pushed a hand through his jumbled curls, mouth splitting into the horrible grin, his face paint a stark white against an otherwise dark backdrop.

Anger filled Jess, its core burning in her chest as her nails dug into the palms of her hands. She wanted to scream.

"Did you not _hear_ me?" she said instead, this time more loudly, more fiercely. "I don't want to look at you, you fucking crazy _clown_!"

She thought the phrase—"fucking crazy clown"—seemed familiar. She thought she'd called him that before, maybe, and something about it elicited phenomenal results from him last time. Anything that managed to gain emotional responses, besides laughter, was something she'd use again.

It worked, as it turned out.

Only half a second passed before his laughter fell away and he was walking at her—charging, actually. Jess had no time to turn and make a run for it. The Joker was on her in a moment, his skeletal fingers closing around her throat. She gasped as he drove her backwards by the neck, pushing her fully into the side of the bus and once more settling his weight atop her, fury smoldering in his eyes.

Jess only allowed a whimper to escape before she gathered herself and stiffened, meeting his angry gaze with fire of her own and grabbing his hand, trying to pry his fingers away.

His grip only tightened and she gasped for breath, never taking her eyes away from his, trying to level the playing field and let him know that she was _not_ going to be intimidated this time.

The murderous look on his face made that difficult, of course.

"Get away from me," she managed to say in low, breathless voice, shaking with rage.

The Joker merely leered, leaning closer and pressing his nose against hers. She tried to turn her head as his admittedly sour breath assaulted her nose but he simply raised the hand that was not clamped around her throat and slowly pressed her cheek, turning her face back to him.

"Look at me," he ordered sharply. Jess's eyes found his and he pet her cheek softly, an ironic reward. "_Good _girl… So, listen…" His eyes darted up and away from her, searching the sky for the words. His tongue jumped out to lick at the scar on his lower lip. "_I'm_ the kind of guy who gets what he _wants._"His gaze was back on her, now. Jess exhaled noisily to indicate her scorn. He looked back down at her and smiled evilly. "Oh, it's true, Jesster. Always have been, always will be."

Jess could hear in the lowness of his voice a sort of animal snarl, hidden by a smooth, practiced tenor designed to keep the listener from guessing what was going on inside. She'd come to know him well enough that this put-on exterior didn't work; she was beginning to be able to read him.

"And when I _don't_ get what I want," he went on as the index finger of his free hand slid leisurely down her jaw line, "people tend. To get. _Hurt_." On the last word, his fingers suddenly folded around her chin, tilting her head back forcibly as he pressed into her.

Jess inhaled sharply, staring at him, wondering what his next move was going to be. The grip on her throat had loosened significantly, yet the rest of his body had not lost its coiled, tense posture; he was on the verge of striking, snapping, and she wasn't in the mood to keep him from plummeting off the edge.

"And, uh, _right now_," he said, looking straight into her eyes, "I'm getting ready to _hurt_ you."

It came out in a snarl, sort of startling Jess, who squared her shoulders the best she could given the situation and braced her defenses against him.

"Why?" she asked brazenly, her voice dripping with scorn. "What is it you _want_?"

The Joker's reaction was immediate. His entire weight slammed Jess against the bus with a hollow echoing _thump_ and his fingers wrapped themselves back around her neck, both hands this time, his thumbs pressing against her windpipe.

"I _take_. What's. _Mine_, Jesster." He spoke slowly, carefully, enunciating each syllable so that they rang clear in her ears. "And I've told you before, so _this _time you oughta pay _attention. Hm_?"

He shook her a little, by the throat. Jess was starting to need to wheeze a little to draw in enough air, but so far the Joker was keeping himself surprisingly restrained.

He leaned into her, greasy curls falling over his eyes as he brought his mouth near the side of her face. She could feel hot breath on her neck, the hard planes of his body pressing against hers, cementing the situation and reminding her with the slightest movement that he had her exactly where he wanted her. Jess shivered, unsure whether she was repulsed or attracted.

Perhaps a little of both.

"I want _you_," the Joker said firmly, his full lips sweeping against her ear. "Youare _mine_. Always have been," he grinned, "always will be."

He pulled back to look into her eyes again, more intense, more serious than she'd ever seen him. He truly meant what he was saying. Jess didn't know what she'd been thinking the first few times he'd told her this; perhaps she'd taken it more of a sign of affection or protectiveness. It was only now, pressed up against a bus with his hands around her throat, that she realized it was neither.

It was a threat. A promise, but not exactly the kind a girl hopes for. A reminder that, no matter what she did, no matter where she went or how long they stayed apart, Jessica Anderson _belonged_ to the Joker. She was now and she would always be his property. Andit seemed the implication was that he would always be there to claim her.

He was telling her that there was no escape.

"_Get it_?"

Slowly, licking her chapped lips, Jess met his gaze and nodded.

* * *

**It was loooooooooong, I know... Hope you don't mind.**

**REVIEW!!!!**

**Cuz I'm a freak bitch, baby.**


	32. Chapter 32

**Hey guys! Please don't hit me!**

**I know I've been gone forever. For that, I am SO SO SO SO SOOOOO sorry! **

**Um… But… I was… KIDNAPPED by PIRATES (for realz, PIRATES!) and forced to smuggle drugs up and down the coast of Mexico, for fear of death. Throughout it all, however, never forgetting any of you beautiful readers, I wrote parts of this chapter in a water logged address book, which I kept hidden beneath a floor board for fear that my captor, Captain T.S. Voldemort, would find it. He detests the written word, you see. The scoundrel. **

**It was a hard time for me, but I learned a lot, especially about swordplay, how much money you can get from a wedding ring, and how to fight sharks. So now I know how to fight sharks.**

**Anyway, one night there was this terrible storm, and I was thrown overboard to the vicious sea by the gusting gales. A blessing at first, it turned into a curse when I realized I had left the address book containing this chapter aboard! I HAD to get it, dear readers, because if I didn't it would be ANOTHER couple months of me sitting at my laptop going, "duuuuuuuuhhhhh… wut?"**

**So, after fighting off like ten BILLION sharks, I snuck back aboard and retrieved the book. I'll spare you the details. And now here it is! Rescued from Captain Voldemort. You may praise me.**

**…**

**I have a confession. I lied to you just there.**

**The truth is, the end of the school year caught up with me. I got spring fever really bad, went to very little school, partied too much, then studied my ass off and got decent grades. Throughout it all, I wrote pieces of this chapter, but I was overwhelmed by the other stuff in my life.**

**I really do apologize, because it's inexcusable. I hope I haven't lost too many readers, and I will try my best to never make you wait this long again.**

**Having said that, I love this chapter. I think it is, if not worth the wait, then certainly worth a review or two. Because, as I've said, those make me work harder. It's true! Just look at how long it's been since I updated my stories with FEW reviews!**

**Also, I started another fic… Should be up soon, but it's not Dark Knight. If you like Repo! The Genetic Opera, keep an eye out! :)**

**Um… I want to thank the lovely **Tamara Evans**, as always. She's my best friend and the best beta a writer could ask for. So much of this chap, especially the gun scene, is her doing. She's a regular military badass, you see. I love you, Tams!**

**Another person I wanted to thank personally is the lovely anonymous reviewer, **zalarith**. Your review really got me moving, and, dear, I worked for you a lot, just to show you that you're not cursed. It really means a lot to me that you reviewed my story. Thank you! :***

**Ok, review please! There's an AN at the bottom that addresses some VERY IMPORTANT issues and plot points brought up by numerous reviewers! I guarantee, you will find something of interest at the end of this chapter, so please read it!**

**Also note: the length of this chapter is really pretty ridiculous. That's how much I love you. :)**

**Again, I beg your forgiveness and, as always, I ask you to review.**

* * *

Someone had been killed.

The coppery scent of blood hung on the air, and a scarlet stain crept over the concrete floor near where the hostages sat huddled, all of them ghost white. None of them were even daring to move anymore, many holding their breath out of sheer terror.

Jess glanced around, confused, as the Joker pushed past her to continue doing whatever he had been doing, humming lowly, off-key. She stepped away from the door and saw the body almost immediately, some part of her recoiling instinctively before curiosity took hold. She wanted to know which hostage was dead and who had killed him.

Both of these questions were answered as soon as she stepped closer, her heels clicking on the concrete floor. The men around her, holding guns, glanced warily in her direction as she moved closer to the corpse, on some level understanding that the fact that the body hadn't been moved or hidden from her was significant in and of itself.

In the past they would've cleared the body immediately. In the past, they would have kept the deed more subtle to avoid her hysterics.

It would seem the Joker didn't care to do so anymore.

And Jess found that, even though she was now standing over a still-warm body, oozing scarlet from the slit in its neck, she felt no connection to it. It was gross, yes—the stench of blood made her gag—but somewhere along the line, she'd lost the connection between this hostage's death and anything personal concerning her own life. It was like watching a fictional movie in which someone is killed, or reading it in a book. It was… odd, to say the least.

There had been a time when she'd prided herself on her empathy. Death of a stranger, it seemed, had ceased to evoke an emotional response.

Jess wondered when that had happened.

Jess wondered how the Joker had known. _She_ hadn't even been aware of it.

She looked down at the corpse's face.

"Who killed him?" she asked Josh, who was standing closest to her, scratching his nose casually.

"The boss," he replied. Jess nodded and looked back down at the boy's white lips, his blank eyes. She could simply imagine what had happened…

As soon as her back had been turned, the Joker had probably hauled the boy off the ground. He would have whimpered pitifully, holding the place on his head where Jess had kicked him, one hand clutching his bruised stomach. The Joker would have said something clever—"I think she _likes_ you, David. Y'know, I could set you two _up_…" or "Women can be _so touchy_…"—laughed, and then he suddenly would have turned serious, his grip transferring to David's hair, his teeth bared in a snarling grimace. Jess could imagine him forcing his head back, exposing the neck, and sliding his knife along the skin, raising goose-bumps while the boy sniveled and plead.

The cut would have been quick and deep. The boy would have gurgled, slumped to the floor, and died.

Jess took a deep breath and blinked.

How long had she been staring at the corpse? And why wasn't she more upset about it?

Shaking her head, disturbed more by her lack of reaction than anything else, she walked away, receiving a friendly pat on the back from Josh who was lovingly cleaning his gun.

* * *

Something was going on outside. Men had been exiting and reentering the warehouse in small groups—three, four at the most—for the past half hour. Jess would have loved to go check on what was happening, but she happened to know the Joker was out there and, while he was no longer angry with her or liable to snap, she was still feeling justifiably irked. She simply didn't want to be around him right now… But that feeling would soon pass, she knew.

Instead, Jess was sitting on a crate near the side wall of the warehouse, reading an old, coffee stained instruction sheet she'd found in one of the Twenty's boxes on how to load, fire, take apart and clean a Glock 37, the likes of which could be found in numerous quantities among the supplies brought by the men. She was planning on taking a weapon for herself—the pursuit by the green car had her thoroughly rattled and she'd decided it was better to be packing and protected than left with no means of defense. This one looked good… a semi-automatic pistol with a four and a half inch barrel and a ten round capacity. Besides, it was absolutely gorgeous: sleek and streamlined, long but slim, and painted a beautiful matte black. She'd fallen for the gun as soon as they'd been taken from their cases, which was odd because she'd never been much of a firearms girl.

Then again, before Gotham, she'd never been much of a crime or violence girl, either, but look at her now.

The thought of being forced to kill someone still filled her with dread, however. She wouldn't become a murderer.

The Joker had made her do so many things she never would have dreamed of doing before this, but she wouldn't kill for him.

Well… perhaps to save his life, but, from what he had demonstrated thus far, those would have to be a pretty fucking incredible set of circumstances.

However, knowing how to scare off or halt someone coming after her with malicious intent would be a valuable asset. In fact, she didn't see how it could be avoided at this point. She was, after all, sleeping with the most dangerous, wanted man in Gotham. Everyone, literally _everyone_, was after them. They had no friends besides themselves.

Filled with newfound purpose, Jess hopped off her crate and strode confidently towards the weapons store. None of the men kept careful count of the guns that didn't belong to them personally—there were always more to be found, and easily, though sometimes sentimental value was attached to a particular weapon—so she didn't worry about her pick being terribly missed. She picked up one of the cleverly designed and rather compact Glock cases, reading the label attached to the side to ensure the make and model matched the number on her instruction sheet, which she pocketed.

Unlatching and opening the case, she retrieved the weapon, noticing that the magazine had already been loaded with bullets. Remembering the directions, she inserted the magazine, feeling the satisfying "click" of metal latching home. Jess regarded the weapon, holding it in her palms, testing the substantial weight, feeling the cool, impersonal touch of metal warm to match her heat, become a part of her on some level.

She raised the gun and aimed, closing her non-dominant eye like the instructions said, her finger testing the trigger. She couldn't fire it inside without making some kind of to-do about it, but she wasn't exactly fond of the idea of practice-shooting around the rest of the men and the Joker. She'd never fired a gun before—besides the BB variety in her uncle's backyard—and she was fairly sure the first few times would be simply terrible.

"Can I help you with that?"

Jess jumped and spun, dropping the gun to her side as she turned to face the stern countenance of Jackson, the member of the Twenty who tended to spend most of his time with the weapons. Not sure what else to say, Jess simply replied:

"Teach me."

Jackson's eyes softened and he gingerly took the Glock from her, motioning that she should follow him outside.

She really only got a glimpse of the men loading some heavy barrels into the back of the school bus before Jackson took her attention with a sharp, "Jesster, watch."

Making sure she attended carefully, he taught her how to release the magazine, how to "clear and safe" a weapon, how to chamber a round, pop a round from the chamber, and how to load ammunition into the magazine. As she slowly and carefully repeated each step, Jackson went off on a short (and, for him, rare) tangent about the awesomely devastating effects of "hydro-shok" ammunition on the soft tissue of the human body. Jess was unsure of whether to be enthralled or horrified, though for some reason she found a smirk mirroring Jackson's pulling at the corners of her mouth.

Jess followed the steps for the third time, sure she had them down, if not a bit clumsily. She held the weapon out, pointed downrange, confirming her visual observation of "clear and safe" before handing it, along with the magazine, off to the expert.

Jackson's focus immediately shifted back to the weapon, and he went both silent and serious. His skilled hands slid the magazine home, pulling back and releasing the slide to chamber a round in almost the same moment. Fluidly, he raised the gun to shoulder height, keeping his arm outstretched, his right hand wrapped around the gun, poised over the trigger, his left holding the weapon steadily in place.

"Two hands, Jess," he told her. "Always two hands, at least till you get accurate, or you'll shoot someone you don't want to _and_ break your own fucking wrist. Take off those heels for the first time or you'll break your fuckin' ankles, too," they both chuckled at this, "and don't even _think_ about touching that trigger until you've got your target all lined up."

He lowered the weapon, pointing it at the ground, and hunched to meet Jess's eyes intensely. "Listen to me." Jackson didn't really… _talk_ that much, so Jess met his eyes, giving over her full attention.

"The fact that we're… well, honestly, we're the bad guys in this story…" he pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing. "Well, that don't mean shit, Jess. 'Cause with what we're doing… if you don't shoot _them_," he gently pressed his free index finger into the center of Jess's chest, right over her heart, "I can personally guarantee, they will shoot _you_."

Jackson let this sink in before delivering his final point.

"So, as a rule, my one rule," he raised that same index finger in the air to accentuate his point, "do not, _do not_, _ever_ aim that weapon at someone you don't fully intend to _kill_."

Jess recognized the utter gravity of what she was learning to do. Defend herself, yes, handy justification, but in the process, she could possibly… well, _probably_ take a life. Kill. She waited for some horror or revulsion to overwhelm her, some desire to throw down the gun and wave a white flag.

Nothing came.

Jackson straightened again. "Hey—_Jesster_—we clear?" Jess furrowed her brow, nodding the affirmative. "Uh-huh." Unconvinced—interpreting Jess's silent aw for a lapse in attention—Jackson reached forward and grabbed both of her hands, wrapping them firmly around the weapon, massive palms cradling her fingers, controlling them. Then he forced her to point the _unclear_ and certainly _unsafe_ weapon at his own chest, pressing the metal barrel into his skin.

Jess's hand shook as she met his eyes, but she dared not pull away. Clearly, Jackson had not appreciated Jess's preoccupation and was out to prove a point.

"What's the one rule again?" he whispered dangerously, his eyebrows quirked as though he truly didn't remember.

"Don't…" she started reciting the rule. Too slowly, apparently. His fingers pressed hers against the trigger. "_Jesus, Jackson_! Don't point—" he pulled the barrel into his chest a bit more firmly, "Okay, _okay_! Do _not_ point a weapon at a-anything you're not prepared to kill!" She rushed the last phrase, and Jackson smiled, shifting away, taking the gun with him.

"Close enough," he said, holding back an obvious smirk as Jess fought with her anger—born from fear—and her shaking hands. Jackson continued with the lesson as though nothing at all had transpired.

_A habit of men around here_, Jess thought.

" Check out my stance: shoulder width between feet, left foot a little forward, body leaning towards the target slightly. We're gonna be aiming for the warehouse over... see that old sign?"

Jackson pointed the pistol at the wooden wall of the warehouse in the next lot, about fifty feet away, where a dented metal sign saying something like "No Dumping" clung to the side. Jess nodded wordlessly. She was being expected to focus on important information. Adrenaline was only going to hamper her first firing lesson. She concentrated on breathing slowly, evenly.

"Alright, now you wanna aim using the sight on top of the barrel. The top of the sight should be lined up where you want your bullet to hit, and you always want to keep _that_ in focus. Not the target, the sight. The target needs to be out of focus, blurry. With a Glock—good choice, by the way—the safety's on the trigger, so you pull to deactivate that, but stop before you get to stage two. When you pull it the rest of the way, it needs to be controlled and steady, or else your aim's gonna get fucked. Cover your ears." Jess nodded and did so.

Before firing, Jackson turned to the men at the bus fifty yards away and shouted, "Just practicing!" He then pulled the trigger. The gun fired with a wonderful, resonant "BANG" and Jess could see the sign dent as a bullet crushed into its precise middle.

She laughed, clapping her hands, and reached for the gun. Smirking, Jackson handed it her way and watched her line herself up, giving instruction every so often and forcibly moving her arms and legs. He was being really cool. She probably thanked him at least five times, and every time she did he humbly replied, "Forget it, Jesster."

The first time she fired a gun, Jess was not prepared—not for the backlash in her hands and arms, the enormous noise, nor the feeling of power when she watched wood from the wall next to the sign fly away as the bullet drove its way through.

Jackson laughed and clapped her on the back as she stood there, surprised and delighted, her ears ringing and her head buzzing.

"Your aim's terrible," he told her with a smile. "Embarrassing, actually. But, hey, everything else was actually pretty good. You'll pick it up quick, just keep practicing."

"Anything you say, Chief," Jess replied breathlessly, which actually made Jackson laugh.

"Again."

She resumed her shooting position, raised the gun, took aim and fired. This time she held her hands slightly steadier and the bullet ricocheted off the very edge of the metal sign, to dent into a trashcan across the alley. Jess burst into laughter at that, but with a stern look from her teacher she got back to business, aiming and firing multiple shots, until the gun clicked and the magazine was cleared

"Don't pull the trigger too much when it's empty," Jackson ordered. "It's not very good for the piece. Always keep in mind how many bullets you have left in your gun; this one holds ten. Keep ammo on your person at all times. You don't want to be empty, especially in the middle of a shoot-out."

"You planning to get her into many shoot-outs?" Blake asked, walking over from the buses to the see Jess's progress.

"It's a very real possibility," Jess replied for Jackson. "We're not exactly _liked_."

Blake's lip twitched into a half smile and he wiped his hands down the fronts of his jeans, leaving greasy black smears.

"Shit," he muttered, noticing the stains he'd just made on his clothing. Jess frowned and examined his hands, the palms of which were covered in what looked like oil.

"What are you guys loading?"

Blake looked away from her, towards the bus, his lips tightening, suddenly seeming reluctant to answer. After a moment, as though trying to figure out how best to word this, he replied, "Oh, you know. The usual."

This response kind of pissed Jess off. She was _just_ on the verge of being completely let into the workings of this group, but people like Blake were still trying to protect her, keep her out. She wanted to be fully integrated; instead of sitting on the sidelines, watching, she wanted to play the game.

The nearer this possibility seemed, the more she wanted it. So, she tried a different approach.

"What are we doing tonight, then?"

Blake offered her a cheeky grin.

"Oh," he said. "You know. The usual."

* * *

If one were to speak to Jess now, as she looked back on this time in her life, she would say that she was happier not knowing, that she would give anything to go back to the days of blissful ignorance, when the true labors of the Twenty were not fully revealed to her. Underestimating the mercilessness and brutality of the group she lived and worked with was a wonderful defense mechanism, and it worked for a long time to keep her spirit and faith intact. Jess would say, now, that her desire to really understand them, to be truly integrated and let in on everything they did, was foolish, naïve, and surprisingly self-destructive. She would say she would give anything to go back to innocence.

Then again, everyone is wiser in retrospect.

At the time it seemed to Jess that she was on the edge of a yawning chasm which separated her from the rest of the Twenty. Of course, as she clung to this group—the only beings like her in this entire universe—she felt that gap between them like an empty hole in her chest; she watched how closely they were bonded with each other and yearned to be part of that bond. Of course, people like Blake and Keith were truly there for her, and she was grateful for their friendship. But after her fight with Billy she'd never felt more removed from the Twenty as a whole. It was an empty sensation, painful and dull at the same time. Jess, knowing just how emotion-based her reactions tended to be, wanted to be rid of it.

However… if she was going to be honest with herself (really, brutally, completely honest), she supposed her desire for integration had _something_ to do with her desire for the Joker. Not simply impressing him—though of course that was a major factor—but _understanding_ him, really experiencing the brilliance of his genius and having him confide in her somehow, instead of keeping her apart so she wouldn't get in the way.

She didn't think he knew when he started this whole thing that adding an inexperienced member to the team, much less a female one, would lead to so much trouble. She was sure it delighted him, but surprise tended to do that. Imagine his surprise when he found out she could _deal _with the full extent of crime, do anything and everything he asked her to do… and she _would_ do it, if only to show him she could.

Imagine how that would _delight_ him.

She couldn't see many other ways to really bond with him, perhaps gain his affection (his love) in return. He'd blocked her every attempt to do so in any other aspect besides in their physical relationship, their fighting and, on the occasions when she was able to rise (or lower) to his level, their interesting, even meaningful, albeit short-lived, conversations.

She knew he couldn't keep himself away from her, she knew he wanted to keep her around, but she wanted him to allow himself to feel towards her without begrudging himself that emotion. He wouldn't do it willingly; he'd want to keep her, as he noted before, _expendable_. Perhaps that was some sort of defense, in case she abandoned him or… died.

Or, perhaps, he just didn't care _that_ much.

Jess knew this, but knowing didn't make it any easier. She wanted him to _want_ to want her.

In short, she wanted to prove that she was right for him.

It was for these reasons that, when a number of men started climbing into the bus to take off to wherever they were going with those barrels, Jess got in, too, despite a deep inkling that all was not going to be well.

* * *

The sky over Gotham Harbor was growing darker, a heavy grey weighing down low over the murky waters. The air smelled like salt and rust; the sounds of the dock creaking, and the shrill of a gull or two, were the only noises to greet them as they stopped the bus and jumped out of the emergency exit at the back. A few of the men got straight to work, unloading the barrels of oil or gas or whatever and rolling them down the deserted dock, while the rest stood guard around the gates thirty yards away, machine guns resting in the crooks of their elbows.

Jess turned out to the vast expanse of ocean which opened beyond the borders of the far-off stretches of land forming the sides of the bay. She loved the sea, but these city waters held no semblance of their distant cousins – they were dirty, cloudy, filled with the slime and trash of Gotham and waste from the engines of the endless masses of oil tankards, commercial steam ships and lean private speed boats which docked here.

This particular section of dock seemed isolated, at least for now, probably thanks to a slight-of-hand by the Clown Prince of Crime. The vessel towards which the barrels were being sent seemed to be some kind of tourist ferry, which left Jess with a definite sense of foreboding as the words Engel had been forced to read came back to her…

"_Come nightfall, this city is mine, and anyone left here plays by my rules. If you don't want to be in the game, get out now. But the bridge-and-tunnel crowd are in for a surprise._"

No, no one would risk the usual paths out of the city, back towards the mainland, not with a terrorist threat in the works (though Jess had her doubts as to whether the Joker was _actually _orchestrating anything on the bridges or tunnels; it would be just like him to lie in order to keep people here. _She_ certainly hadn't heard of anything.) This left them turning towards the Atlantic as an escape route, perhaps trying to catch a boat to nearby Metropolis, or farther. Many of them would board their own speedboats, perhaps a yacht or two, maybe even a cruise ship, but the rest would turn towards…

"Wait!" Jess was racing down the docks after the last of the barrels, hardly giving herself time to think this through. There were two ferries anchored there, she saw now, and casks were being loaded into them evenly. She stopped and stared as the closest one was hauled from Seth to Drew.

_A bomb_, Jess thought, recognizing the bundled wires on top of each container. She looked at the other ferry. _Two bombs, one for each boat_.

What was the Joker playing at? The people on these boats weren't mob bosses or men trying to usurp his quest for the city; they were ordinary citizens, Gothamites, and if these drums of oil exploded, they'd be killed in hundreds!

For all her thoughts about apathy towards the death of a stranger, Jess could not see this happen! This wasn't some stupid kid who didn't know when to shut his mouth. This was on a much grander scale.

Before, it had been different. Before, the Joker had only ever killed those on the other side—people who got in his way, got mixed up in his world; people who were _asking_ for it, who, through their own decisions and actions, had caught the Joker's attention and wound up in a coffin. The Joker's murders were carefully and personally chosen; they had all had a _point_, god-dammit! But this scheme… This was so out of character. She'd never seen the Joker arbitrarily carrying out a mass-murder, and for what? Innocents, families, men, women and, dear god, _children_ would be on these ferries! Had her faith in him all been wrong? _How could he do this?_

Jess turned on her heel, fuming, panic and distress welling up inside as she marched back down the docks to confront the boss. He was standing by the bus, eyes cast meditatively out towards the bay, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his mouth. She could just imagine his wicked thoughts, sparking rapid-fire through his head; too quick to catch hold of and examine in length but too substantial to disregard.

How uncomfortable it must have been, to be trapped in that brain which caused so much trouble, which thought of things in a way which skewed them beyond recognition. For a moment she regarded him, a little struck by pity.

_Not that he'd change anything about his situation_, that nagging little voice at the back of her head—which was growing quieter by the day—spoke up. The thought was enough to send her sweetening compassion far away, and she squared her shoulders and marched up to him.

"J," she said, loudly and sharply. His eyes lifted away from the horizon and he swung his head to look at her, intrigued by her tone, his tongue running along the inside of his cheek. "What the fuck is this?" This was a demand, and his eyebrows popped up.

"So full of _conflict_ today, Jesster," he said lowly. "Don't you ever get tired of _egging_ me _on_? That's what you're doing, you know, with all your little…" his left fist clenched in irritation, automatically, spasmodically, "_questions_."

"Just answer me," Jess ordered, bent on her refusal to play games with him. "What… the _fuck_… is this?"

Jess could see the Joker prepare himself for another brawl: his posture grew tense, especially around his shoulders and back, and he lowered his head, looking at her from under his eyebrows, his smile tilted in an uncanny, frightening way. A show of defense, she understood now, like the snarling red grimace on the wings of a toxic butterfly. He was warning her away, giving her one last chance to flee before she was poisoned and destroyed.

But she was no longer afraid of him. That particular emotion had been absent for a while now.

Well… perhaps that wasn't completely true. But Jess certainly wasn't scared that he might decide to up and kill her, what with all that "you are mine, I want _you_" crap he'd spewed last time they'd spoken. Crap that had, by the by, softened her enough that she'd given him a smoldering kiss before walking away to look at the guns. He'd apparently figured he'd gotten away with it, that he had been completely forgiven, that their conflict and the horror of his attempts to force himself on her were forgotten.

But even though she wasn't _mad_ anymore didn't mean he was suddenly in her good graces. He'd assumed he was, the idiot.

_Men._

The point was, she could speak her mind around him now and not have to fear a knife to the throat. She was sure he loved that as much as he hated it.

"Ah… _well_… Jesster," his eyes locked onto hers and he grinned, "what does it _look _like this is?" Jess didn't say anything for a moment, staring at him with silent, shaking rage. He took this as an opportunity to continue. "I mean, you're a _smart_ kid, _right_? You've, uh, been around the _block_ a few times? Hm?" He was making fun of her now. She sneered.

He paused, looked to the side quickly and licked his lips. Then, eyes darting around, he approached her, his makeup and oil stained hands reaching up to slide long fingers down the contours of her jaw. She shivered but kept eye contact, jutting out her chin to demonstrate just how unafraid she was. The Joker cocked a half grin and Jess realized he was never more fascinated with her than at times like this, when she stood up to him. There was a sort of interest, a strange kind of gentility in his eyes, as though he was in the midst of trying to solve her, loving both the game and the puzzle itself. She couldn't understand why she was more confusing to him than the majority of their friends (for lack of a better word).

Perhaps, as she'd pondered before, the Joker simply didn't understand women.

"You're committing mass-murder," she told him bluntly, allowing her voice to shake a little with suppressed anger.

He blinked; that thin thread of affection in his eyes snapped and he leaned away, tilting his head to the side, his mouth opening slightly while his tongue played at the corner of those blemished lips. He regarded her carefully for a long moment, eyebrows raised slightly, and she simply stared back, waiting for his next move.

"Y'know…" he said, abruptly launching into speech, his hands making characteristic circles in the air, "there's not much _to it_, Jesster. The idea's _simple_… _classic_, even. It's, uh… it's been done _before_. We just make our little _bombs_ and stow them as a nice _surprise_ for the folks on the ferries. _Trust _me," he grinned and cupped a hand around the back of her neck, forcibly bringing her closer, "it'll be a _blast_."

Jess snorted in disgust and pushed away from him, hard, her hands connecting with his shoulders. He relinquished his grip easily, however, still watching with interest, curious to see how she'd handle this, perhaps a little wary after how badly they'd been getting along today. Knowing she was in the mood for a fight anyway. Waiting to calculate his own actions to counteract hers.

Like a game of chess.

Why was everything a game to him?

"You think that's brilliant, don't you?" she asked. The Joker managed to look mildly pleased with himself, raising his eyebrows as if to say, "_Yeah_?" Jess pursed her lips. "You know, this whole… _experience_ hasn't exactly been a real fucking_ joy_, J. I've been through a lot of shit getting to this point. I've seen a lot. I've learned a lot, and you _can't_ deny that. And not everything I've learned has been pleasant; in fact, the vast majority of your little… _life lessons_ have seriously sucked."

"What's your _point_, Jesster?" He was getting impatient.

"My point, _J_, is that if I didn't find you a _little_ redeemable sometimes, I would _not_ still be here. It wouldn't matter that you have connections all over the Gotham underground or that you're good in bed; I would be _gone_, or at the least I wouldn't make it easy for you to keep me around." She sighed. "But you manage to endear yourself to me; I don't get how, but you do and you know that. But right now, seeing what you're planning, what you're about to do… I can't find a single redeemable characteristic about you… _especially_ after today."

The Joker looked unimpressed.

"Are you trying to _leave me_, Jesster?" he asked ironically, cocking his head, wearing a condescending expression.

"Don't insult me," Jess snapped. "I'm well aware you don't consider that a threat and I know nothing I say is gonna change your little fucking _scheme_. That's not my motive. Why move towards an unreachable goal? But I want you to know something." She looked right into his eyes as she said this, portraying to him her depth of solemnity. "_This_ disgusts me. _You_, at this moment, disgust me."

He opened his mouth to reply but Jess held up a forceful hand, feeling an incredible surge of bravery. He showed no signs of open hostility, after all. In fact, once again he seemed fascinated by her actions. His eyebrows popped up again when she quieted him, but he slowly shut his mouth, staring into her eyes with a dark expression.

"What is this for, J? To prove a point? To get Batman out of hiding? Or is it just to fuck around, have some laughs at the expense of hundreds of people's lives? Because that… That is more fucked up than I thought even _you_ were capable of. You know," she laughed scornfully, "I kind of thought you had a _point_, like you were doing this shit for a reason. What the fuck is this gonna do? You won't even be there to see it! So why do all these innocent people have to die, J? What's your reasoning here? What is this _for_?"_ Gotham._ "What will this get you?" _Gotham._ "What are you after?"_ Gotham._ "What statement are you making here? What is this _claiming_?"

_Gotham_.

Jess stopped, her lips still drawn, caught suddenly in deep thought, the kind which etches creases in the lines of your brow. She stared at the ground, working her jaw a little, intensely focused on this realization that she couldn't quite believe she'd just had. Looking for answers, she glanced up to the Joker for a long moment.

In the instant their eyes met, dark gaze locking onto dark gaze, an understanding passed between them, far superior to any communication she'd had with him to date. Like an electric spark, a surge of synergy… if only for a second, a split second, Jess completely understood him; she was suddenly acutely aware that she was thinking exactly what he was, that she had guessed everything, that she _comprehended_.

Something had connected between them; she'd gone to a different state of mind for just an instant, and the result was a startling, electric change in energy, as though the bond between them had grown stronger, pulsing with a new, feverish glow.

"It's for Gotham," she said. The Joker was still and silent, but his look took on a different aspect. He stared at her, intense and anticipatory, something about him predatory, hungry, wolfish, while he simultaneously managed to be somehow appreciative of her. In that moment, she knew she had it right. His silence reaffirmed her thoughts; the fact that, for once, they were on the same page was enough to make her heart start racing and her cheeks flush with pleasure.

She'd caught up! She was sharing a serious idea with the largest role model she'd ever had in her life, a man who commanded her initially reluctant respect because he was so much _more_ than she was in every way. But this meant the gap between them was closing and that… that felt too good to explain. There was something in his eyes, some concentrated desire for her to continue, for her to share her epiphany.

Because this epiphany? This changed things.

_We all need change_.

"Of course it is," she muttered as she thought, mysteries unraveling themselves seemingly of their own accord. She seemed to have found the final puzzle piece, the invaluable cut which, once added, allowed the rest of the picture to fall into place. "Of course that's what it's for. To show them… _exactly_ what you're capable of, exactly what you'll do to…"

"_Get_ this city," the Joker finished her sentence lowly, his eyes flicking back to the long stretch of buildings on the western horizon. His shoulders hunched slightly as he looked at it, the predatory stance of a hunter about to capture his long-awaited prey.

"This is a way of waking them up out of their fog…"

One way of many, doubtless. Hadn't she thought before how the citizens of Gotham were like timid sheep, stuck in the monotony of their subjective day to days? This stunt would show them how delicate were their forces of balance, their opinions of right and wrong. This would show that those rich bureaucrats up in their fancy offices didn't control this city; neither did the mob, the gangs; neither did Bruce Wayne. No one _controlled_ this city. Only chaos had reign here… and chaos was the Joker's game. It was his home, his comfort zone.

He was only perfectly at ease when nothing was.

"People who are not 'supposed' to die will die," Jess muttered, looking at the ground. "That's the way chaos works, isn't it… Because life's not like a story, not even in this world…" The Joker's head snapped up at this, his eyes searching hers feverishly. For a moment, she panicked. The issue of her being from a different universe was a subject they'd never broached, and she wondered how he'd handle it. She wasn't sure it had even been okay to mention it; it was that one issue no one wanted to approach with him, that unspoken facet of their lives that was kept out of conscious thought, the better for sanity. The statement had slipped out, really. Jess had always had a big mouth.

"Go on, Jesster," the Joker said quietly, his voice cracking a little. Jess shivered at his tone. He was goading her on; he wanted to hear what she was thinking.

"They're not from where I consider real," she said. He was silent, giving no hint to whether or not this was news to him. She didn't know how it could be. He'd contacted them, after all. "They're not real, not to me, and, I'm beginning to think, somehow they're not even very real to _you_ either… We're on different planes than them…"

A light drizzling rain had begun to fall. Jess watched a drop land on the Joker's shoulder and slide down his suit, leaving a dark purple trail along the lapel. She got the urge to reach out and wipe it away, but restrained herself. She thought touching him would be like sticking her fingers in an electrical socket, and she had to keep her wits for at least a little while longer.

"We're on different levels… They're just figures in the dark and, I suppose, if this is the way the story goes, then they were meant to die…" She paused, shook her head. "No, that's not right, is it? None of them were _meant_ to, but that's the whole point. The absence of meaning. The fact that there really _isn't_ a point."

Her eyes locked on his again. He was smiling a little.

"That's it, isn't it?" she whispered.

Jess checked herself. She was flushed, overwhelmed; she felt as though her heart were leaping and plummeting at once, as though she'd just jumped off a building and was learning to place her trust in nothing, in absence, in empty air.

The truth is, there is no truth.

"What is _real_ anyway?" she asked. "What's real to me, what was always real to me, is certainly not what was real to you. It's not even what's real to _me_ anymore. If things can change like that, doesn't that mean reality's subjective? How can any of us have the… _insolence_ to try and say what's true or false or right or wrong? I mean, learning to look past it has been one of the most… enlightening… experiences of my life. Why go according to how people say it's supposed to be? Things…" She looked back to the city, thinking of the filth, the hate, the disease, death and sadness, the corporate bigwigs in their comfy office chairs, the lusts for power and money and _more_ at all costs, the rich getting richer, the poor getting poorer… Man's desire for control was killing him.

"Things aren't working the way they are," she said simply, but she felt it, deep in her chest.

They were like motes of dust on stream of wind among countless streams of wind, governed only by a lack of order. And trying to control that chaos only led to the oppression of others. True freedom was found in lack of order.

"You… _we_ are fighting for Gotham's soul."

The Joker's smile widened. "I _like_ that, Jesster," he muttered. "Gotham's _soul_…"

Jess looked around, struck by utter disbelief and shaking from a forceful epiphany. Then, slowly, her lips curled and she managed a quiet chuckle. "I don't know why I didn't get that before…"

Her eyes scanned the distant horizon, where the darkening sky met a grey, tumultuous sea. Allowing herself a moment of silent contemplation, she ignored the Joker's presence behind her, unable to shake that little smile, blown away at how perfectly everything had clicked into place. She _had_ learned; he'd taught her, in his way, and she found herself going back over memorable things he'd said, finding more meaning in them now. Understanding the way his mind worked, the truths under which he was operating, allowed her more of an insight into him than ever.

She remembered all the times he'd told her to give up, to stop fighting. He'd known that chaos would override any morals or ideals she'd had when she'd come to Gotham; the only one strong and stubborn enough to keep his useless values, to continue operating under them, was Batman. _That_ was why he and the Joker were perfect enemies; he would never stop attempting to protect Gotham from its true nature, while the Joker would never stop attempting to bring that true nature to the surface.

A hand fell softly onto her shoulder, startling her from her reverie.

"_Thinking _again, Jesster?" the Joker asked, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. Jess nodded and looked up at him, her gaze softening.

She turned, pressing against him as his hand slid down her arm, thinking back to earlier, how angry she'd been with him. How did he have the power to make her forgive him so easily? He'd done nothing, really, besides listen when she needed to talk to collect her thoughts. Somehow he always knew exactly what to say and do to achieve his goals… and he was well aware he had that rare power of insight. He utilized it frequently.

"You have a problem with that?" Jess retorted playfully, her voice low and sultry.

The Joker cocked a crooked half-grin, half-sneer, a quiet growl resounding deep in his throat, the masculine tenor of which immediately fanned to life that lusty fire. Smiling, Jess reached up for the back of his neck at the precise moment he pulled her arm forcibly towards him. Their bodies connected solidly an instant before their lips did, and Jess reveled in the firm press of his abdomen, in the heat emitting from beneath his clothes.

She loved this man.

The Joker's kiss was fierce, passionate, and he immediately took control of the pace. Jess's head fell back as he pulled her closer still, almost crushing her against him, so tight she nearly couldn't breathe. But it was wonderful. She had never felt so needed before, so craved, so much like she was taken and would never be released… It was glorious, a mix of the terror of entrapment and the passion of desire. His tongue flicked against her lips softly, tracing their shape before forcing its way into her mouth, deepening the kiss brutally. Simultaneously, his hands trailed down her arms and suddenly ten strong fingers had grasped both of her wrists, bringing them behind her back and ensnaring them there in one large palm, effectively trapping her against him. Jess struggled for the sport of it, knowing he'd love her doing so. Sure enough, he growled again, smiling against her lips, and his hipbones collided against hers. The kiss turned animal, unthinking, vicious, teeth clicking against teeth as they bit each other's lips, pleasurable in its ugliness, exactly what a loving kiss shouldn't be; the Joker's free hand flew up to cup her chin, forcing her face closer to his until there was nothing but their mingled breath, teeth, tongues and lips. It was exhilarating. All of her rage, her fear, her sadness and hate spilled out into him; he drank them down and returned for more, taking her sins, sharing them, loving them.

A shock of pain streaked through her as his teeth grazed the corner of her mouth on his way to lick and suck on her neck. She felt around her lips with her tongue—breathing heavily, the Joker's ministrations raising hot and cold goosebumps all over her body—and found a small well of blood had sprung up at a side. The coppery taste was oddly appealing; it reminded her of him.

But this was the breaking point of her will. She was starting to feel shaky, on edge, wild, almost, as though she might blow completely apart at any second. His tight hold kept her together, but it was the very thing making her crack.

"You scratched me" was all she could think to say.

He brought his mouth back to hers at this, not comprehending or not caring or both, and the feel of his painted lips was too much at first. Jess moaned, not able—or willing—to keep from doing so, feeling wonderfully over stimulated as his flaking makeup translated itself to her face, leaving behind streaks of white and red.

White hot.

Red hot.

His dark eyes were wide open. That was nothing new. He never wanted to miss a second, wanted to experience everything with every sense he had.

If the Joker didn't know how to live, no one did.

Taking a clue from him, Jess met his intense gaze, which grew even more turbulent in this connection, so powerful she almost looked away like a submissive dog. But in locking their eyes, she upped the heat. The Joker pulled her closer, releasing her wrists to clasp tightly at her body, bending her backwards a little, translating her weight into his arms, fingers digging into her ass and thighs. She grabbed his belt loops, slamming their hips together forcefully. He grunted, grip tightening painfully, his tongue doing indecent, wonderful things to her mouth. They gazed at each other as they kissed, and once more she felt their link, so strong in this moment…

Finally, Jess forcibly ripped herself away from him, breathing heavily, still looking into his burning brown eyes. He growled at her for it, a release of some of the tension building up inside him, evident in his tightening shoulders. But Jess held her ground.

"We _have_ to go somewhere. Now."

This was an order, there was no mistaking. _Jess_ had just given _the Joker_ an order.

He stared at her for a long moment, obviously more than a little pissed off, shoulders heaving, before, finally, he nodded and glanced around the area quickly and feverishly.

"C'mon," he muttered, grabbing her wrist again and pulling. She trotted after him, his long strides taking two of hers as he walked with absolute purpose and resolve towards the school bus parked at the end of the pier, just inside the forbidding fence.

"Out," he barked at Keith and Jackson, who had been lounging inside the now-empty vehicle. He was still breathing heavily, his teeth bared, and the men glanced at Jess both curiously and a little anxiously as they passed, jumping out of the emergency exit and walking towards the waterfront, where the rest of the men were preparing the bombs. At that moment, she could honestly not have cared less how she looked to them; it felt like her heart was pumping acid through her veins with every beat. The Joker, to them, must have looked murderous. She knew better, however.

The Joker caught Jess's eye, smiled, and slammed the door after them, locking it solidly before turning back to face her. She started towards him as he slowly raised his hands and pulled off his purple gloves, tossing them aside only to grip her hips and drag her on top of him, falling backwards into a double seat. She straddled his firm thighs—God, he had an incredible body—making sure to grind into him; it wasn't tough to figure out whether or not he was turned on.

"We have to make this _fast_," he rasped, tugging her dress up over her thighs, skimming his hands between her legs. Caught in the sexual craze, Jess reached to unbutton his vest, coarsely forcing his jacket off broad shoulders and onto the cheap vinyl bus seat—a sort of poor-man's bottom sheet. He laid back quickly, banging his head against the metal window frame but not even pausing in his removal of her costume, making no secret of his desire to reveal more of her skin. His hands were everywhere, schizophrenic, unfocused and frenzied. But he managed to let her know with his touch that he possessed every part of her… in essence, he was her god.

Jess was fine with that. She studied his bare torso, ran her fingers along the scars there, felt the taught skin of the years-old burns. Watching his movements and the contractions of his solid muscles beneath that scarred and imperfect skin only fueled her arousal, tapping into some deep-seated evolutionary sexual urge triggered by muscular frames and displays of strength, of dominance. He was such a mystery; there would always be the possibility of discovering more about him. That meant he would never, _ever_ get boring. That was such an amazing, appealing facet of his existence.

She leaned down to kiss him, fisting a hand in his sweaty, tangled curls. Their bodies connected. Bare skin met bare skin; it felt like an electric current passed through her every pore. The Joker's coarse hands explored her torso roughly, squeezing and rubbing, and he laughed whenever she gasped in surprise or pleasure. The man was full of surprises, one of which was his unceasing ability to elicit pleasure in new and increasingly provocative ways.

He moved too quickly to understand or completely follow, making Jess cry out in all the right ways before she was even aware his hands had shifted. He was always self-satisfied when he brought forth such vocal expressions of gratification from her lips, smiling a little, tonguing the scar that twisted its way up his lower lip as his eyes focused directly on his task. How he could move with such speed and precision was beyond her; she made him moan much less often than he did her, but he wasn't complaining. He _thoroughly_ enjoyed it all. Of this much Jess was certain.

The fact that she was on top, straddling his—regrettably, still clothed—hips, meant very little at the moment. It was quite clear who was in control. But when Jess's hands slid down his stomach to start working at his belt buckle, the Joker laughed against her mouth, once more abruptly capturing both wrists in his hands. In half a second, too fast to really register what had happened, he'd flipped them so that Jess was now the one laying on the bus seat, her knees dangling over the edge. The Joker's coat bunched beneath her and she felt the cheap vinyl stick to the beads of sweat forming on her naked back. The air started to smell muggy, delicious, and the Joker knelt in the bus's aisle, between her widened legs, kissing her stomach, her bare breasts, teeth nipping, tongue flicking, sure to leave marks.

As he undid his own belt and removed the rest of _her_ clothes, Jess thought bizarrely that a bus was such an odd place to do it. Not her idea of romance, but, God… She honestly could not think of anywhere hotter. Not that either of them were doing much _thinking_ at the moment.

He lifted himself over her, his weight settling on top of her as his hands secured her wrists high above her head. She'd seen things like this in movies, shows of such dominance, and now she _completely _understood why it was so popular… He was displaying utter control over her and it felt so safe this way, so sexy. He was doing this because, against all (and I mean, quite literally, _all_) odds, _he_ wanted_ her_. He wanted her more than anything else right now. It felt like she'd won everything the world had to offer. Her heart was pounding a rapid tattoo; she didn't think she _could_ get much more steamed up…

Moving rapidly, fumbling, he unbuckled his purple trousers and kicked them away, both of them finally completely naked, sweaty bodies moving as one. She arched her back, trying to contain the moan threatening to burst through her lips at the mere feel of him. He was boiling hot, every piece of him a streak of fire, and he slid his tongue up her neck, hands gripping and groping, spreading her legs forcibly, teeth nipping her earlobe…

He wasted no more time with teasing her. Jess's head fell back, her lips parting in a silent, involuntary gasp as he entered her. She could never remember feeling so wonderful, so consumed.

When he finally settled his full weight onto her, hips thrusting frantically, and he kissed her again, things lost control. Jess's mind went completely blank at the corners, all her attention focused in a heated beam on the man whose body moved with hers. There was nothing but this, this fire, this heat, this frenzy, this extreme, all-encompassing power he had over her.

He was going fast, too fast, painfully fast, and it was _incredible_. More than incredible. It was fucking _divine_. All she could do was cry his name over and over; there was only him, only _them_, together.

_We._

_Us._

"J…" Barely managed between heated breaths.

"Jess…"

It was all that mattered, all that existed. There was no Gotham, no Twenty, no Batman, no battle, no guns, no death… Reality at that moment came down to Jesster and Joker, alone, together.

She looked straight into him, meeting his eyes, matching his intensity, and felt everything else collapse.

* * *

**VERY IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE! PLEASE READ!**

Thank you all so much for your amazing reviews. A few of you are coming out of the woodwork and letting me know what you really feel, which is incredibly gratifying because THAT is when I start to improve. When I get constructive criticism, I mean. Now, of course, I love all of you who tell me you love the story, but I am also incredibly grateful to those who point out—intelligently and with some semblance of courtesy—where I'm going wrong.

Having said that, I felt I should explain some things that have been bothering ME about my own story, because I don't feel they're getting across as well as I would like, and I don't know how to really put them in.

**1.) Cliché?**

Haha, now I don't want to sound like a complete jerk here, but when people tell me my story's "a little cliché," I say, "Why, yes. Yes it is." And there's little to be done that can change that. But I'm justified.

Please listen and listen well, for this one point I'm justifiably passionate about. I started writing this story BEFORE the opening night of Dark Knight, based solely on some absolutely riveting trailers with a few amazing frames of this sexy new Joker tossing his knife around. These led to a rather extraordinary, vivid dream, one I still remember. I outlined and posted the first chapter at a time when most other people hadn't even _seen_ the movie, and almost no one had posted a Joker/OC story for it. At the time this fic was conjured, written and posted, my plot _was_ original! No one else had written it, at least not from what I'd seen, and the now-classic "normal girl gets turned into Joker's henchman and also they have sex" thing did not even exist at the time I first published this story! At least, not for Dark Knight. For comic fanfiction, I'm sure there are stories out there. But I never read comic book fanfic. I'm sure I'd love it though…

Now, I'm NOT claiming I was the first to write as much, or even a part of the faction that created that movement (which is undoubtedly a movement, I mean, let's be honest). That honor goes to all of you incredible authors out there who have contributed (and, in the interest of harsh truths, quite a few not-so-incredible authors who have also contributed…) However, what DOES frustrate me is that in staying true to my _original_ outline, I'm getting accused of being cliché! It irritates me, honestly, but there's not anything I can do about it. Loyal and wonderful readers, please understand that any perceived cliché-ness is not for lack of trying or creativity. I had nothing to go off of besides the trailers when I first conceived You Can't Spell, and had nothing aside from the moviw when I first wrote it.

Having said that, I think my story is unique, as are most stories. Besides, I love writing it, "cliché" or otherwise, love it or hate it.

**2.) (And this is something that probably bothers ALL of us) The apparently common assumption that every male in this story is in love with Jess.**

Um, guys? Literally not a single person is. Well, maybe Billy, but he's not going to forgive her any time soon. He honestly feels more hate towards her than affection and there will be no more romantic themes between the two characters – that ship has long since sailed. The rest of the Twenty either think of Jess as someone they must protect, like a kid sister (I mean, she's from the 'real' world, too. She's one of their small and unique group in a world otherwise occupied by DC characters. Of COURSE they're gonna bond with her in some manner) or they are pretty ambiguous about her thoughts and feelings. I am aware that I don't spend a lot of time describing the members of the Twenty who don't really hang out with Jess, but that's because _she_ doesn't really know _them_, either. They feel the same about each other—like they're part of a team and they should stick together because they're from the same place. In fact, that's one of the driving forces behind the strong bonds amongst the Twenty. They are the _only_ people there of their kind (that is, not what they consider "fictional"). Step into their shoes, please. How would you feel if such an, albeit unlikely, occurrence came to pass? If they didn't all stick together, they'd be lost. And they know that.

But that's pretty much the extent of it, and a lot of things go on behind Jess's back that she doesn't see. Most commonly, the rolling of eyes. In regards to Jess's actions, the reactions of the other men are sugar-coated by people like Blake and Keith, because they don't want to hurt her feelings or start trouble in the group – you know, big brother behavior. And Jess is none the wiser.

*****Keep in mind, Jess's point of view does not represent the views of the rest of the Twenty!****

They all have their own seperate feelings considering the events in this story, many of which differ drastically from what we experience through Jess's POV. Do NOT take for granted that what she is thinking reflects the thought process of anyone else. Simply because the Twenty is (mostly) not straight-out _mean_ to her doesn't mean they're _in love_ with her.

As for Blake… Well, let's just say I have plans for the guy. He's really the one who cares most about her.

The Joker? God, I have NO idea how he feels about all of this. Why don't you ask him yourself? ;)

**3.) The tears of Jessica.**

People are complaining about how often Jess cries. This problem confuses me. What do you want her to do? I'm older than Jess, and I know I'd be bawling my eyes out at every turn in the road (maybe that's JUST me, but I doubt I'm alone in that assertion… I hope I'm not, anyway! Why wouldn't you cry? This is scary stuff! Are you all hardened bandits? Murderers? GASP… are… are you all HIGHWAYMEN! I KNEW IT!... I've been playing too much Fable II…). She's not the most insanely strong, tough badass on the planet. She's an eighteen year old girl and a die-hard romantic on top of that. But does that make her a Mary-Sue? I have always worked and continue to work _very_ hard on NOT writing a Mary-Sue; on keeping her "normal," if a little hardened. I'm trying to allow change in the deliberate effort to create a dynamic character. Thank you for any help you can provide on that!

**4.) The alternate universes.**

A lot of you mention this! I don't know how deeply I'm going to go into the mechanics of the DC/Reality crossover, but it's certainly a pivotal point of the story which drives the action of every single original character (and one or two characters who are not mine, wink wink). It is not contestable, (as much as I enjoy debating the finer points of physics and string theory, lol) and while it's easy to forget where the Twenty come from, I hope you all keep it in mind. There's a REASON I remind you every so often that they consider this fiction. I promise, there's a reason.

I don't want to give away too much. What I can tell you is that I certainly don't think of the warp into the DC world like a magical leap through the boundaries of fiction, a la Narnia. In the realm of quantum physics, there is no reality or unreality. The theory (and that's all it is as of now, a theory) states that there are _infinite_ universes existing simultaneously with ours. If anything happens—whether in a story, a movie, a song or the imagination—it is happening in some other universe's subjective reality. You follow? :) I merely latched onto that fascination idea, thinking it might make an interesting plot device, and utilized it as such.

In the most succinct terms I can conjure, it is possible that we experience just one of countless universes. Gotham is in a parallel universe to ours. In my story, the wall between the worlds fell for a while and people crossed over. _How_ remains a mystery… for now. ;)

That's not to say this is my spiritual philosophy, but that's what happened in my story. So, you see, I do think about it... quite a lot, in fact. :)

**So that's my rant. I'm not attacking anyone, and I'm not bitter or mad or anything. I just think it's fair that my thoughts are known, and I think that, if you're still here and reading, you have a better grasp of what I'm doing. Review or PM me and let me know what you think! I love having Joker related discussions, so, seriously, don't be shy. I appreciate all of you readers beyond measure. You're incredible and you… you light up my life. :')**

**Xoxo**

**Immy**


	33. Chapter 33

**Hey guys! So it's like 2 in the morning and I'm kind of, ahem, out of it. But I needed to get this chapter up before I could sleep!**

**It's been busy here in Immy-Ville. The main thing that has happened this week is that my beta, Tamara, has actually come across the nation to stay with meeeeeee! She's sitting next to me RIGHT NOW talking about nonsense and it's wonderful! I mean, who gets to meet their best friend/beta? This is amazing. It's cool cuz it's like we haven't just been internet friends for two years. Having her here is so normal and awesome!**

**Oh also we met Brandi Carlile and the Hanseroth twins after driving 18 hours to see them at a show. If you don't know who they are, look them up! They are amazing and gorgeous. Especially Tim.**

**To the anonymous reviewer, Harlequin- I would love to discuss your questions with you! However, I'm not in the habit of emailing readers from my personal account. Do you have an FF account? You can PM me instead! I look forward to hearing from you!**

**Thank you so much for all your amazing reviews and patience with me. Love you all! Enjoy!**

* * *

Guilty of dropping these bombs in the city  
But I'm innocent; love is the motive, that's why I'm killing them  
Guilty of setting my fire in all fifty  
But I'm innocent, blame it on my equilibrium  
In the days of kings and queens I was a jester  
Treat me like a god, oh, they treat me like a leper  
You see me move back and forth between both  
I'm trying to find a balance  
I'm trying to build a balance

-Atmosphere, "Trying to Find a Balance"

* * *

I never wanted to kill  
I am not naturally evil  
Such things I do  
Just to make myself more attractive to you  
Have I failed?

-Morrissey, "The Last of the Famous International Playboys"

* * *

The bombs were all set. Scratching his nose, Blake stepped over the side of the ferry, planting a firm foot on uneven wooden boards, his eyes straying vacantly to the low grey horizon. A few men were still milling about on the docks, making last minute adjustments or double checking equipment, while the rest of them stood in little clusters at the waterline, also watching the sky. The acrid smell of tobacco filled the air as men lit cigarettes, celebrating a job beautifully completed, taking a well-deserved break—if Blake could say so himself—in the downtime between explosions.

Thinking he could use a bit of nicotine himself, Blake squatted down at the end of the dock to wash the oil stains from his callused hands, glancing idly around for any sign of the boss. He'd disappeared to God-knows-where for God-knows-what. Given Jess's striking absence, Blake could only imagine.

But he didn't want to. And he chose not to.

Suppressing the familiar knot in his stomach which formed whenever he thought of that particular part of this experience, he strode toward Jackson and Billy. The latter was wearing that same pained, mildly irate expression that now so often graced his features. He was chewing his lower lip contemplatively, nodding at something Jackson was saying, and when Blake stepped up beside him, his bright green irises flickered with a hint of hurt—betrayal.

It wasn't hard to figure out whose side Billy wanted him on, and his allegiance to the Joker—not to mention that little blond in the red dress—was a constant source of conflict between the two men. Today more so than others, it seemed. Billy stuffed his fists in his pockets and refused to meet Blake's eyes.

Jackson, however, turned to him with a grin.

"How's the party goin', el Capitano?"

Blake wasn't sure whether or not he liked it when the men called him things like that. They had all sorts of nicknames for him, thrown around behind the Joker's back: Lieutenant General, First Mate, Sidekick, Number Two… That last one was their favorite. But for the most part, his relationships with the other men were good, and the teasing was all in harmless fun.

Still, it bothered Blake a little. It wasn't like being second in command to a brilliantly insane terrorist was a life dream. For fuck's sake, he'd wanted to be a _police officer_ when he was a kid. But the fact was, he'd worked hard and long for the kind of trust and borderline respect the Joker was now showing him, and he'd be damned if he was going to give that up any time soon.

So, in answer to Jackson's question, Blake shrugged.

"It's goin'. And, uh… if the boss has anything to say about it, it'll be goin' big."

"Seems like it. Seth said he threw in some fireworks for when the fuses light. He thinks the boss will like that."

"He probably will…"

"Does anyone else feel like this shit's coming to a head really quick?" It was the first time Billy had spoken to him all day, and Blake turned quickly to look at him, hoping to catch his eye and see if things were good between them. The smaller man, however, was staring pensively across the water, a phenomenon that seemed widespread. Blake could only chuckle, feeling a little helpless.

"It's just been a long day, Bill," he replied. "Tonight we can party. Tomorrow we can sleep."

"Won't _that_ be a change of pace," Jackson muttered, smirking a little. He handed Blake the cigarette he was about to ask for, reaching in his back pocket and tossing him a lighter in the same fluid motion.

"No…" Billy said, his lips tightening. "Tonight's different. _This_… is different. You heard the Joker's threat. _Anyone left in this city_ and all that."

"It's huge," Jackson offered as Blake took his first deep drag. "Definitely the biggest, weirdest thing _I've_ ever done…" He thought a moment, then amended, "Well, that night in jail excluded… and maybe the parade… Shit, Billy, what are you talking about? This really isn't that big of a deal."

Blake was chuckling before Jackson had finished speaking and Billy, seeming a little mollified, took a deep breath and looked towards the bus. The point was, they'd been through worse, and that was a comfort. Besides, overall, things were going extremely well.

In that same moment, a dark expression shadowed Billy's face, the mean kind of sneer that Blake only saw him wear when the subject of Jess was brought up. Sighing, knowing he'd probably see something disturbing, he turned to follow Billy's gaze and watched as the girl in question clambered from the emergency exit, tugging her dress down over her thighs, glancing around with a mighty guilty look on her face. The source of that guilt followed right behind, in the form of a tall clown man trying to force his hands through the sleeves of an inside-out jacket. He stumbled when his feet met the gravel and Jess, laughing, steadied him by the elbow.

They looked cozy. Too cozy. Blake didn't like it.

"I just feel like something's ending," Billy said quietly, his eyes still trained on the girl and her clown.

"Enough with the _feelings,_" Blake said, distaste tinting his words. "We just do what we're supposed to do. You said yourself, that's the way to survive."

"Is that all you're doing?" Jackson asked, surprised. "Surviving?" He cocked a crooked grin. "I'm having a _great_ time. You know, as long as we're not physically behind bars again, the chances of getting caught are slim to none. We don't even _exist_ here." He, too, looked back at the Joker, though with a more forgiving air. "That's the genius. We're free to leave our prints, our DNA, all over a crime scene. Nowhere to trace it to. No matches."

The man had a point. And, Blake had to admit, it omitted a lot of the stress he usually suffered when engaging in illegal activities. The thrill was still there, of course, but the aftermath was always a lot less nerve-wracking here in Gotham. He was perpetrating fictional crimes against a fictional people. It was like a wonderland of types, as long as you didn't think too hard about it.

And Blake spent most of his time making sure he _didn't_ think too hard about it.

"I'm coming to think that has a lot to do with why we're here," he said, turning his back on the bus.

Neither man replied, and in the lingering silence he had time to wonder why this kind of thing wasn't discussed more often. They all had a million questions and a million theories, but whenever someone tried to vocalize, the rest clammed up. It was uncomfortable, and Blake wasn't about to force the issue… But he had to admit, talking might help straighten a few things out. He took another drag on the cigarette, watching his cloud of smoke dissipate into the air.

Suddenly, Billy's mouth twisted into a blatant sneer and he smacked his lips.

"See you guys," he muttered, once more jamming his hands in his pockets and unexpectedly turning to leave.

"Hey, what…" But he was already marching towards the waterline. Jackson caught Blake's eye with a subtle look of comprehension as he motioned over Blake's shoulder. Turning, he caught sight of the reason behind Billy's hasty retreat.

"How are we doing?" the Joker asked, his voice low, all business as he came up beside Blake and clapped a hand on his shoulder. He looked sweaty and mildly exhausted, his makeup running in streaks across his forehead. Blake managed to smile at him.

"We're good," he said.

"All systems _go_ and all that?"

"All systems go, Boss. The barrels are rigged to blow, we've got the wireless interference set up and those, uh… _packages_ you wanted them to find are in place."

"_Perfect_." The word was relished on his tongue, and he reached into an inner pocket on his dirty purple trench coat to bring out the detonator. Blake regarded it, half wary, half enchanted. The boss was a whiz when it came to explosives; he knew his shit, no doubt about that. Not just anyone could build two bombs, each with its own remote detonator and yet _another_ device that would set them both off simultaneously. A master switch, really. Not everyone could even _conceptualize _it.

But the Joker could.

Looking towards the ferries, the Joker licked his lips and pretended to bring a gloved finger crashing down on the red button in the center of the device, making a little noise of mock-explosion at the back of his throat. Giggling gleefully, he turned to Jackson and abruptly changed the subject.

"_You_ were teaching little Jesster how to play with _guns_…" He formed an imaginary firearm with his thumb and forefinger, pointing it directly at the other man, who nodded. Blake ran a nervous hand over his peroxide blond hair. There was something in the Joker's tone that suggested displeasure, and both of them were on guard against that. "That… _That_ might turn out to have been a _very_ dangerous _idea_." He clicked his tongue against his teeth, moving his hand to suggest firing the weapon.

Jackson shrugged, a little sheepish and more than a little wary, but kept his cool.

"She asked me to," he replied. "I figured she should learn to protect herself… You don't want her dyin' on us, do you Boss?"

The Joker thought for a moment, tonguing his scars behind his lips, fingertips waggling in the air. Blake had to swallow a rush of disgust that the man had to even _consider_ whether the possibility was good or bad.

"No…" he said slowly, after a moment, that pensive look still on his face. "That'd be…" he sighed, wistful "…a pity." He paused, then let out a little high-pitched giggle. "Though it _would_ make a few things a _little_ easier." Blake couldn't help but clear his throat disapprovingly, and the Joker looked over at him with half-lidded eyes, his brows arched high. "Oh_… _would that upset you, Blake?" He twisted his face into the mockery of a frown, and Blake felt he kind of deserved that jab. As it was, he shrugged and looked away. The boss understood this response all too well. "Yeah… In that case, I guess we're stuck with her. Just _don't_, uh… facilitate her use of the weaponry around here unless she _asks_." He looked back and forth between the two men. "_Got it_?"

"Got it," they replied in unison. Blake had no idea why that mattered. Jess would almost _definitely_ ask for more firing lessons; what difference did it make whether or not they were offered first?

But the boss wasn't going to explain himself.

"Now," he clapped his hands together once, surveying the scene in front of him. "We oughta make our escape. The Russians'll be at my warehouse. And our little, ahem, _welcome_ party won't satisfy them for long."

Of course not. They'd want to talk to the boss, not his ignorant group of henchmen guarding a complacent crowd of hostages.

"So…" the Joker pursed his lips at Blake and made a 'round-em-up' gesture in the air with his index finger. "Do your thing."

With no more ado, he stalked off towards Jesster. Blake watched for a moment as he threw a purple clad arm over the little girl's shoulder and said something in her ear, something which made her giggle quietly. After having to comfort her earlier, after seeing what he'd done to her, how scared and upset she'd been, the displays of affection between them were off-putting. It seemed that neither wanted to stay mad at each other for long, though from what Blake had seen, their squabbling made up a vast majority of their relationship. Perhaps they liked making up as much as they liked fighting.

It wasn't healthy, though Blake didn't see how it could be. He saw as clearly as anyone the extent of the Joker's obsession with Jessica; what he wanted to do with her in the long run was a fucking mystery, but for now he got his kicks out of warping everything she used to be.

What scared him was how open Jess was to being twisted. There was no fight left in her, at least not against the boss, and it was starting to become apparent that she was quite dependent on him. At the least, it was clear who she cared most about.

And she _did_ care, that much was certain. The way she watched him, the way her eyes lit up when he entered a room, when he spoke, when he was so much as _mentioned_, was evidence enough of how _much_ she cared.

Or perhaps _care_ was a bad word. It seemed to Blake that the obsession went both ways. Maybe Jess was under the impression that her emotions ran deep, but to an objective observer—alright, perhaps not _entirely_ objective—there was nothing that connected the two but fixation, perhaps an odd kind of mutual dependence. And an obvious, though completely inconceivable, attraction.

One thing was sure—Jess wasn't as sane as she seemed. A reasonable person didn't become obsessed with the Joker; the idea of him, maybe, but not the actual person. Jess was concealing some kind of deep-seated lunacy, even if it didn't manifest itself in typical conversation. She was nutso over the boss, which pretty much made her nutso in general.

Sighing, Blake shrugged at Jackson and turned toward the groups of men at the waterline.

"Alright, ladies," he announced loudly, "time to head out."

* * *

The Chechen's guys—formerly, at least—were already gathered in the warehouse when they arrived, clustered in little groups. There were about a dozen of them, and for a moment Jess felt awed by the influence the Joker exhibited over each and every person in this building. The members of the Twenty who had stayed behind to guard the hostages were trying to make nice, and a few of them had succeeded in roping the gangsters into casual conversation.

The large warehouse chamber was filled with relatively pleasant chatter, and it looked as though nothing interesting had happened while the others were at the ferry docks. Jess strode in, feeling tall and sexy after her spectacular reunion with the Joker, and surveyed the large group of criminals, her eyes wandering lazily towards the hostages on the ground, tied together with rope.

Some of the gangsters were leering at her, she noticed. She supposed she'd have to get used to that at some point, but for now, after this extraordinarily long day, her main priority was a feeling of safety, illusory or otherwise. So the first thing she did was stride over to where she'd left her new Glock, withdrawing it from its case and making no effort to hide her actions as she loaded it with a full magazine. She glanced around for a carrying device and, after a moment, her eyes fell on a black holster belt, which fitted rather loosely around her waist. But she'd be lying if she were to say she didn't feel like a badass with it equipped.

She returned to her boss, who graced her with a sardonic, slightly patronizing, expression. Whatever. He thought it was hot.

"Joker," one man in particular, tall and thin, black hair captured back in a sleek ponytail, strode toward Jess and the boss, hardly sparing her smaller form a second glance. "Have I delivered or have I delivered?" His smirk was cocky. Jess immediately disliked him, but from the look on the Joker's face he was in their good books.

The Joker glanced around at the Russian gang members and Jess wondered fleetingly how many of them were American born. Not that it mattered, but it was interesting because this man didn't have the Chechen's heavy accent. He sounded like a born-and-raised Gothamite.

"Yeah," the Joker said with a sardonic smile, "you delivered." He sounded like he was going to leave it at that, and the man's face fell slightly. Had he been expecting more praise? The boss noticed immediately, of course, and his painted mouth split in a delighted grin. "Oh what's the matter, Alex? Hm? Think you deserve _more_ than a pat on the back? You want, like, a _trophy_ for betrayal?"

The guy, Alex, looked affronted, his mouth gaping. Obviously, he hadn't been dealing with the Joker for long.

"_I_ know," the boss said, stepping forward to put his hand on Alex's shoulder. "I'll lend you Jessica for a while." Jess's eyes snapped up at this, insulted and more than a little worried. Unfortunately, she wouldn't have put it beyond him to be completely serious about this. However, before she was able to speak up and tell him she'd rather kill herself than touch this greasy slime ball, the Joker was grinning and laughing, smoothing Alex's lapels while the Russian stood, uncomfortably ill at ease. "Just as long as you bring her back the way you took her. No dents, I mean. And, uh, if you scratch the _paint_ you're in _big_ _trouble_."

His growl at the end of the last sentence told Jess that he wasn't being serious, but Alex was skating on thin ice and would probably fall in and drown if he kept up his current attitude.

The mobster glanced nervously down at Jessica, some part of him considering whether or not she'd be a bad trophy at all, the other parts relatively sure the clown was taking him for a ride. Jess sneered at him, wondering what his response would be.

But, as was usually the case, all he could think to do was silently gape at the boss, who sighed.

"No?" he asked Alex, reaching down and gripping Jess's arm to proffer it at the silent mobster. "You sure? She's a _great_ ride." Ok, that was enough. Jess ripped her arm away from the Joker's fingers and brought it hard into his side instead, making him stumble a little and crack up. She turned on her heel and stormed away, only in earshot of the two men long enough to hear the Joker proclaim, "Perfect, Alex, now you got her _mad_ at me." He smacked his lips. "_Again_."

Not really _mad_. She knew he was joking and, in some perverse way, she was actually a little flattered. He'd practically complimented her talent in bed, and she was learning to put stock in the little comments, the ones that tended to mean the most. But that didn't mean she wanted to be around while he was saying those things to some sleazy gangster named Alex.

* * *

Jess was across the room, heading into a conversation with Blake and Jackson, when she turned back again to look at her clown and noticed that the gangster was beckoning him outside. Apparently Alex wanted a word in private.

She didn't know why she followed them. To this day, she absolutely could not tell you. Perhaps it was the look on Alex's face, the way he followed the Joker's every move with his eyes, suspicious, angry, sizing him up. Perhaps it was the way the Joker had acted towards him—the man had done his bidding, but the clown hadn't attempted to treat him with anything besides thinly veiled hostility.

Perhaps it was that blossoming feeling of dread hanging over her all day, shoved to the back of her mind but present as a pit in her stomach. Whatever it was, it had Jess turning on her heel and following after them, a few yards behind them, unnoticed as they made their way outside.

She hung by the door to the warehouse watching them stride across the lot, towards the bus. When they'd reached the middle of the expanse of gravel, the Joker turned to face Alex, whose back was to Jess, and the Russian guy started to talk. Jess didn't have to strain very hard to hear the conversation. She leaned against the doorframe, mildly amused, but neither of them had detected her as of yet.

"So, I've been thinking," Alex started, trying hard to keep a tremor from his voice as the clown regarded him, amused and carefully curious. "I mean, after you came and talked to me, I did a lotta work rallyin' my guys together, you know?" The Joker's expression changed—suspicious, guarded. He knew what was coming. "I'm just sayin', Joker, they weren't so _sold_ on you, ya know? In fact, if I hadn't been around, you'd be workin' with a lot fewer guys is all I'm sayin'."

Jess closed her eyes briefly in irritation. If that was all he was _saying_ he would've shut up by now. She wanted to call him on that, but she figured eavesdropping, watching the Joker work, would be more interesting.

"Your _point_?"

The boss said it like he already knew Alex's point, a fact the gangster picked up on, to judge by the quaver in his voice when he next spoke.

"Well, how do you plan on keepin' 'em lined up all neat-like for you, without me backin' your orders, right? I seen these guys, Joker. They ain't fuckin' around. Change is tough for 'em and they already feel like their necks are stickin' out, all exposed-like." He paused, but the Joker just gave him a terse look, his tongue moving along the insides of his cheeks. He was starting to get nervous, but his tone was also getting more hostile. Some men counteracted fear with violence. They were the dangerous ones. "I-I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into. Unstable, my guys are, unpredictable. You need someone up front with 'em, someone they already respect."

"Someone like _you_?" the Joker guessed.

"Yeah, that's right. Me. I busted my ass for you, Joker. And all I'm sayin' is, it'd be in everyone's best interests, especially yours, if we joined up as leaders. Co-bosses, I guess. Then everyone's happy. And, if not…" he paused, his tone low, dangerous, dramatic. "Well, if not, you might have a mutiny on your hands."

Jess couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. This asshole was practically _threatening_ the Joker! Was he actually a potential hazard- or was he just an idiot?

The Joker stared at him hard for a moment and smacked his lips. Jess could see the irritation plainly etched into his face, frightening and dangerous. He was getting ready to snap, and his hands twisted, his fingers clenching themselves subconsciously. Jess tensed and her hand traveled of its own volition to the gun on her belt, fingers brushing against the comforting, cool metal.

"A _mutiny_, huh?" The Joker tilted his chin up, glancing at the warehouse roof and squinting an eye. He sucked in his cheeks, then bared his teeth at Alex, cracking his jaw. "Look, listen, that's _real_ sweet. I appreciate the offer, but, uh… See I'm not ready for that kind of _relationship_. I mean, we just met."

Alex was furious. "You don't wanna fuck with me, Joker."

The boss giggled with delight.

"No, Alex, I think you have that backwards."

"_No_," the gangster was starting to sound desperate. "You don't know what you're getting into, clown."

"Okay, see, let me make this… simple to _understand_," the Joker said. "What you don't seem to _grasp _is that this _isn't_, like, a two-way _street_. It's more of a one way pay-off. My way. _Your_ prize is, you get to be part of the winning _team_." The Joker's widely gesticulating arms told Jess he already assumed this was going to come out in his favor but Alex was completely tense; Jess could feel the anger steaming off him in waves. "See I don't _do_ partners."

"Oh you don't fuckin' do partners, do you?"

Before Jess could react in any way, Alex had quickly drawn his gun and pointed it straight at her clown's head, point blank range. He let out a bitter laugh at the Joker's quirked eyebrows.

"Ooh Alex, you're braver than I _thought_." The boss smirked. "That's kinda _sexy_."

Alex growled. "Seems like you got two fuckin' choices here, _freak_. But first, raise your fuckin' hands."

Sneering, the Joker looked again at the barrel of the firearm and slowly lifted his arms, elevating his hands to chest height in a sign of surrender that managed to be absolutely condescending. Suddenly, his eyes shifted to Jess, standing a few yards behind Alex's shoulder. His expression didn't flicker when he noticed her, but the slight tilt of his head told her he was expecting her to intervene if things got terrible.

And they were already pretty bad.

Jess's heart started to pound as the gravity of this situation hit her. _Shit. Shit shit shit._ What the fuck was she going to do? Hadn't she just been thinking today that she would never kill anyone? And now she was here, forced to fire a bullet before the man she loved was shot in the head.

Or was the situation really as bad as all that? Did J have this under control? Was this a test? Fuck tests! But did that mean she actually had to _murder_ the thug? This wasn't fair! She didn't know if she could deal with this. Maybe she could just wound Alex, distract him…

Hands shaking uncontrollably, Jess fumbled for the Glock, feeling helpless and scared as the Joker stood still, making no movements while Alex steadied the gun at him.

Could Jess even aim correctly? She thought she remembered all the steps Jackson had taught her, but adrenaline was starting to burn its way through her veins and she'd only just learned today and she'd only had an hour or two of practice and, oh God, what was she going to do?

"Good," Alex smirked at the Joker's raised hands. "Option number one: You hand it all over, defer to me, and I make it easy on you. I let you live, get you a forty percent split of our holdings."

God this fucker was cocky. Jess was holding the full weight of the weapon in her palm, scared to aim it towards the men, but even more terrified of the thought of watching the Joker's head get blown apart. She couldn't lose him, not now, not like this.

This thought spurred her on and she grabbed the top of the barrel, lowering the weapon and using all her strength just to fucking cock the thing. Her hands were shaking too hard to put a lot of power and control into this, but she managed to complete the task silently enough given the situation. She had to be ready, in case the Joker was threatened further. She leveled the sight at Alex's right shoulder.

As soon as she had, Jess's hands began to quiver violently and she bit her lower lip, feeling like she might cry. This was it. This was getting grim. _It's us or them_. But she was only planning to only put Alex's gun arm out of commission for a while. She wouldn't kill him. She _couldn't_ kill _anyone_!

But Jackson's dangerous words kept echoing in her head: "Do not, _do not_, _ever_ aim that weapon at someone you don't fully intend to _kill_."

She almost retreated right there. This wasn't what she'd signed up for. She'd never wanted _any_ of this! She'd only fallen in love; that was her only mistake. Everything else had been forced upon her by others and that _wasn't_ fair! She _never_ wanted to be a criminal, a gangster, much less a _murderer_! How could she be expected to act in a way so opposite to everything she'd ever believed in?

But then she glanced at the Joker, whose dark eyes met hers for an instant, smoldering, and she remembered. She remembered why she was here, how much she had changed, how freeing it was. She looked at the man who had transformed her and understood that, if he was worth dying for, he was worth killing for. Saving his life—God, she'd never thought she'd have to save his _life_—would be worth any price. She loved him, and now he was counting on that fact.

Jess squared her shoulders, still watching carefully, still hesitating.

It was clear that Alex was getting close to shooting, though he was obviously wary of the repercussions of doing so.

"Option two," he said. "I shoot you in the fucking face, take your shares by force, and, uh, hey, maybe get close to that little girl of yours."

The Joker laughed.

"Oh, I don't know if that's a _reasonable_ expectation, Alex." He licked his lips, eyes hooded. "She only likes _nice_ guys… like _me_." He thought a moment. "Besides, they're just a part of my imagination. So, uh, if you _kill_ me, you might _lose_ half your _team_."

"_What_?" Alex growled, getting fed up. He cocked his gun. "Shut the fuck up, clown. You just _made _your fuckin' choice!"

He raised the gun again, and Jess's world slowed to half-speed, in stark whites and deep blacks and blood reds. She saw the gangster's trigger finger tense, saw the half-smile on her clown's face, saw his deep eyes flick back to her one last time…

The sound of gun fire exploded across the lot, causing the birds in their roosts atop the warehouses to take flight.

Jess stood in shock, her gun falling to her side as the body across the lot dropped to its knees and fell forward. She watched the blood start to seep across the gravel, unnaturally sluggish, and that rushing, ringing in her head was getting louder. She couldn't take this, couldn't even _begin_ to think this one through or accept it.

Accept the fact that she had just shot a man in the back and that there weren't many ways to come back from that.

Accept the fact that, if the gangster wasn't already dead, his imminent exsanguination would drain the life out of him.

What startled her was just how silent he was. Alex hadn't even made a sound before crumpling to the ground, and now he lay perfectly still and unresponsive. Had _Jess_ done that to him? She still felt the heated metal of the weapon in her hand, but she didn't turn to look down at it. The sight of her fingers grasping the gun might make this sink in too far. Things were highly surreal at the moment, and maybe it was better that way.

_I didn't mean to_.

To what? Stop him? Protect the Joker?

Oh. You meant you didn't mean to actually _kill_ him. Well what did you expect? You shot him in the back. You know how bad your aim is, especially when your hands are shaking. It's not like this should be much of a surprise.

_But… I just _killed_ someone_.

Yes, you're a murderer. But it was only a matter of time. I think you know that.

_That's not how this should work!_

But that's the way it _did_.

Jess was swaying on the spot, unable to rip her attention away from the corpse she'd made, an odd mix of guilt, exhilaration and pride swirling through her. She was slightly horrified to discover that things were still moving in slow motion, which only meant the adrenaline had not yet died down, but it was making it hard to concentrate.

Feeling drunk, unable to comprehend the events that had just taken place, she slowly lifted her gaze to the Joker. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, also looking at Alex's body with an expression of satisfaction. She watched as he smacked his lips and brought into sight the little knife he'd had concealed in his palm from the beginning of this ordeal.

He could have reached out and slit Alex's throat at any time. Why hadn't he? Why had he waited, gone to the brink of obliteration?

_He wanted to see what you'd do_. (And you didn't disappoint).

Not more than ten seconds could have passed since the gun had gone off, but it felt like a lifetime.

The noise had, of course, attracted the attention of the men in the warehouse, and suddenly the door behind her opened and men were beside her. But she didn't look at them. She only had eyes for the Joker.

He was smiling at her.

_What a fucking day_…

And it wasn't over yet.

* * *

**Kind of a radical turn, I know. Review and let me know if it works!**

****IMPORTANT NOTE****

**Slight change at the end here! Jess does not faint. I explain further in next chapter's AN.**


	34. Chapter 34

**Hello dears**

**This is probably the longest I've kept you waiting so far. I'm terribly sorry! I really don't have an excuse, except it took a long time to write and I've been distracted with everything life's been throwing at me lately. Plus my laptop broke. So that was fun. Anyway, I hope I haven't lost you all. We're REALLY close to the end. This is the second-to-last chapter of You Can't Spell Slaughter Without Laughter, and you won't have to wait as long for the finale, I promise! It's bittersweet ending this story. But I have kind of an announcement, one that I'm pretty exited about: There will be a sequel! :) It should be cool. It includes alternate dimensions, an ORIGINAL crime spree (yay!), and some, ahem, new and familiar characters ;). **

**So yeah. If you can put up with me being the worst author ever, read please!**

**I feel like I have to tell you all how much I appreciate you. Really, I look at the amount of reviews this story has, what they say, and it makes me feel so blessed. I honestly never thought I'd ever write something that this many people read and enjoy (especially mediocre Joker fanfiction!). It's wonderful and I'm really lucky to hear from you if I hear from you. Otherwise I'm just lucky you're reading and ingesting my words, because you're giving me your time and that is more amazing than I can express. Getting to know some of you, if only slightly, has been the coolest experience ever. Thank you all so much; this story is nothing without its readers. **

**I want to say thank you especially to a few people who have literally reviewed almost every (if not EVERY) chapter I have posted, from the beginning, and who have been so influential. They take the time out of their lives to write me notes every time they read, and I haven't even personally thanked them. **Manga Girl number 6, Laurenmlbc, mischeiflover **and **Scipio'sgirl **I'm talking to you. You four have consistently rocked my world for more than a year and a half. Thank you so, so, SOOOOOOO much! I want to buy you all ice cream. You kick ass.**

**IMPORTANT!:**

**I decided to change the end of last chapter. I reread it and hate how melodramatic it is! I mean, fainting? For realz? I know she killed someone but, God, come on! ****:P**

**So I changed it. I'm the author. I am god. It is my prerogative. I simply omitted the last sentence—"Blackness crowded her vision, and the world went away." Jess does not faint. It's not really a big deal, I just thought I'd bring your attention to it. Thanks!**

* * *

"I can't tell you what it really is  
I can only tell you what it feels like  
And right now it's a steel knife in my windpipe  
I can't breathe but I still fight while I can fight  
As long as the wrong feels right it's like I'm in flight  
High off of love, drunk from my hate  
It's like I'm huffing paint  
And I love it, the more I suffer, I suffocate...  
... Just gonna stand there and watch me burn  
But that's alright because I like the way it hurts  
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry  
But that's alright because I love the way you lie."

-"Love the Way You Lie" Eminem ft. Rhianna

* * *

"Come on and get the minimum  
Before you open up your eyes  
This army has so many hands to analyze  
Come on and get your overdose  
Collected at the borderlines  
They wanna get up in your head  
Cuz they know and so do I  
The high road is hard to find."

-"The High Road" Broken Bells

* * *

Years might have passed, but Jess wouldn't have noticed. That corpse at the end of the lot—sprawled out, twisted oddly at the angles like a frail rag doll—cried for her attention, for every speck of concentration she could muster. She stared at it, curiously underwhelmed.

Drawing closer, she scarcely heard the bursts of noise behind her as the men who'd spilled through the door reacted to the scene before them; speaking between themselves, to the boss, maybe to her (Jess didn't have a thought to spare). She did think she heard Blake's voice, but the idea of turning around to check now seemed absolutely ludicrous. That body was waiting to be examined.

Her bullet had driven a neat little hole through the ex-person's left shoulder blade, and—if the black blood seeping across the gravel was any indication, winding its sluggish way between cracks, under rocks—it had exploded out of his chest shortly thereafter. She followed the scarlet trail with her eyes, noting with a subdued, almost numb interest the way Alex's body had landed – he'd fallen heavily to his knees and clumsily toppled forward, sprawled face-down, right arm crumpled under his body like a broken marionette. His left fist still clenched the gun he'd used to threaten her Joker.

Jess stopped a foot away from the carcass, eyes wandering over the back of its greasy head, feeling… What _was_ she feeling?

Less… upset. More… vacant.

Resigned, maybe. Calm... not quite. She'd killed someone. The words echoed blankly in her head, absolutely factual—there was no escape from _fact_, there was no point in trying. The whole cycle of mourning that might've consumed her—denial, guilt, all of that—simply took too long.

It felt like something had snapped inside of her at the feel of the Glock going off in her hand, had broken at the crack of bullet leaving chamber and fallen away. There was a mild, electric, oddly heady sense of renewal, invigoration, some kind of _freedom_, like she'd sloughed off her skin and emerged different. A gargantuan burden seemed to have lifted from her shoulders; the taboo, in its execution, was gone, and she was… huh… she was fine. Jess didn't know what she had been expecting would happen if she took a life, but it seemed, really, that nothing did.

She was… she was actually kind of _relieved_.

And proud, there was that. That was nice, if not somewhat unexpected. She'd stepped up to the plate, taken the situation in her own hands and _succeeded_. That was key; she hadn't backed down. Her commitment had helped in a real way, made a big difference in the life of her boss! She'd killed the gangster because he'd threatened her chief. She'd killed him because she'd _had to_, because he needed to die. Who could blame her for that?

Not even she could blame herself.

The pride… that wasn't something she was used to feeling here. She'd contributed. She'd helped. She'd _succeeded_.

A man's life was over, but Jess was starting to see how that was par for the course.

The Joker was still standing where he had been, his hands now shoved deep in his pockets, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet much as he had earlier, after she'd unleashed her rage on that kid. (_Had that really been Jess? Was this new person still Jess?_) He was pleased, she could see that—satisfied would probably be a better word—and she allowed herself to watch him for a moment; he reached up to his forehead and touched the wet spatter of blood droplets that had sprayed him when Jess's bullet tore through the gangster. Sighing through his nose at the red smears on his fingers, he dug in his pocket and withdrew a handkerchief, dabbing all the blood he could feel from his face.

There were still light clusters of scarlet on his neck and shirt collar when he put the cloth away, but Jess didn't feel it was necessary to tell him that.

He'd orchestrated this—why was she still so surprised when he did that?—and it kind of pissed her off, if only for the consequence it might have had on her, the damage it might have done. As it was, of course, she didn't _feel_ damaged, but there had been a huge risk that she could have! She knew how a normal person would react—how she _should_ react—and, simply because she wasn't experiencing those specific emotions at the end of the day, it didn't mean he should have asked her to do this.

God, but when he turned to look at her and smiled, she melted a little.

She thawed to warm putty when he said, "Nice work, kid."

The rarity of his compliments certainly increased their significance, and Jess found an ear to ear grin on her face before she had time to keep it from happening. Quickly masking the grin with another glance of mild interest at the corpse—so as to maintain the appearance of control, though mostly for her own pride—Jess cleared her throat.

"I thought it would mean more," she said, absolutely truthfully, though she couldn't say she'd wanted it to. "To me, I mean. I kind of thought something like this would fuck me up somehow."

Blake and Keith chose this precise moment to arrive at their shoulders, two of the men who'd come out to investigate the gunshot. The other man, Tim, stood guard by the door to prevent an unwitting Russian's inadvertent discovery of their dead guy. No one else had followed, happily; she wasn't sure what the Russians would do once they found out their surrogate leader was deceased.

Jess was a little annoyed at Blake and Keith's approach. She knew Blake was trying to run damage control, and getting a report was sort of expected protocol. But the Joker wouldn't say anything revealing if the men were around, and she _really_ wanted his thoughts on this.

"You okay over here?" Blake was concerned. His eyes bounced rapidly from Jess to the Joker, a crease between his brows, before his gaze traveled over the corpse and, finally, rested on the gun in Jess's hand. She followed his stare, and looked down to the weapon, slightly surprised to find her hand was shaking. It wouldn't stop, as much as she tried. She just kept shaking. Jess glanced back up to watch his expression harden significantly as he began to suspect what had happened.

"_Just_ fine, Blakey," the Joker replied, smiling. "We took care of some issues that _might_'ve complicated things… No cause for alarm…"

Blake ripped his eyes from Jess's gun hand and nodded at the clown.

"If you say so, Boss," he said, running a hand over his hair. God, he was good. Blake rolled with every punch that came at him, and he knew how to play most of the cards he was dealt in his favor.

The Joker was pleased with this response as well. He clapped a hand once on Blake's back, a sure sign of approval.

"Alex was getting a, uh…" the boss glanced at the corpse and cracked his jaw, "a _little_ big for his _britches_. Said some _surprisingly_ stupid things," he raised his eyebrows at Jess for a moment, like she could back him up on this one. "He got cocky. Y'know, _Blake_, _I_ thought we were supposed to run collateral to make sure _this_ kind of thing doesn't happen."

"Alex seemed harmless to me," Blake replied, and Keith nodded his accord.

"He threaten you, Boss?"

"He pointed a _gun_ at me," the Joker faux-whined, a waver of laughter evident in his voice. "But… _Jesster_ took care of _that_."

"Jesster, you shot him?" Keith asked, finally catching on, his eyes flicking like Blake's had to the gun in her hand. Jess found herself suddenly defensive, and grasped her quivering hand in irritation, feeling the urge to explain her actions.

"I had to!" she said, an unnatural edge in her voice. "He was legitimately trying to kill J." She determinedly holstered the piece and tried to flex away the trembling.

"He did seem _pretty_ self-righteous," the Joker mused, idly tapping the corpse's head with one scuffed leather shoe.

Blake's hand had reflexively shot up to pinch the bridge of his nose in an expression of frustration at Jess's confession, but now he dropped it to his side, swallowing whatever he felt at the idea of her killing someone. He cleared his throat. He wasn't meeting her eye, she noticed. Not once, since arriving at her side.

"Okay. You want me to tell the Russians anything?"

"Tell 'em…" the Joker thought a moment, a hand raised mid-gesticulation. His eyes flicked up and he wrinkled his nose, taking the next moment to wave away what he had been about to say. "Uh, I'm as much a fan of _elaboration_ as the next guy but," he giggled, "_this_ was just _fun_. _I_ think we oughta tell the truth. Hm?" Blake nodded, a smirk tugging at his mouth.

"Alex threatened you, Jess shot him. Got it."

"Good… Oh. And uh…" The Joker flicked his fingers, beckoning for Blake to lean closer. "Let's keep this _quiet_ for the most part. We don't need any more conflict."

"Right," Blake replied. "I'll get some guys to take care of the stiff. How long until we move?"

The Joker furrowed his eyebrows, pulling his sleeve back and glancing at his bare wrist as though he usually wore a watch. Then his eyes darted to the sky, searching there for an approximate hour. Jess followed his gaze. She'd more than lost track of the time. It was still mostly light out… she figured it was around four or five.

"An hour," the boss stated. "Sixty minutes and we're driving away."

Blake and Keith both nodded, glancing at their not-imaginary watches, before they turned back to the warehouse. Blake didn't even glance at her again; the ice in his eyes wasn't difficult to see. So maybe he _was_ upset with her. If so, he was being incredibly passive aggressive about it. If not, something else was wrong.

He hadn't seemed blatantly distressed by Jess's actions—hardly surprised, in fact—but the Blake she knew would have almost certainly shown more concern for her well-being. At the least he would have met her eyes, asked if she was okay. But he didn't, hadn't, had turned and walked away. Granted, the Joker was here and eager to speak with her but Blake's airiness bothered her, and she couldn't shake this growing measure of irritation with his apathy. He hadn't even spoken to her since leaving the shipyard.

Jess watched the men retreat for a long moment, starting to feel a little confused. What did this mean? Did this change anything for them? Did this change anything for _her_?

How could something so monumental seem so commonplace? _How was Jess alright with this?_

"Take a _picture_," the Joker's low voice came from behind her, a touch of annoyance licking at his tone. Jess had been staring at the door to the warehouse for a long time now, contemplating, but she immediately took a deep breath and turned back to him. Just like she always would.

He flashed a vicious grin when he had her full attention, still bouncing a little on the balls of his feet, and reached out for her to approach him, waggling his fingers slowly. She stepped forward, folding her arms around his narrow waist, and he let her, allowing her a much-needed moment of calm as he petted her hair with shaky hands.

"Did I do okay?" Jess asked, knowing she'd surpassed his expectations this time.

"A regular _protégé_," he replied lowly, only slightly sarcastic. He smacked his lips. "Like I said: you learn _quick_."

Jess smiled into his chest, absolutely content with this response, especially as his hands delved deeper into her hair, twisting and pulling gently. He seemed to just be enjoying the softness of her curls.

At Jess's smug grin, he caught hold of a chunk of her hair and tugged, pulling her head back. Jess tilted up her chin, baring her neck to him. He liked this display of submission, as evidenced by the intrigued darkening of his pupils, and he slid a slow finger down her neck, tracing the path intently with his eyes. Then he rested both hands on her shoulders.

"_Now_," he said, distancing their bodies a little, hands jumping with every syllable, "back to the question of the _hour_… Does, uh… does this," he motioned behind her, and Jess knew he was indicating the body, "make you _feel_ fucked up?"

"No," she said, "but I think that must mean I _am_." The Joker snorted and rolled his eyes, derision clear.

"_That's_ just what they _want_ you to think," he said. Jess didn't have to ask who. She knew he meant the omnipresent They—the establishment, society, the Man; any one of those radical butt-hurt terms pathetic grumblers use. But They were a fact of life, even if They weren't literal, and when J spoke of them, she knew he had a point. "Normal, _ab_normal… They're just _words._ It's _all_ subjective; can't be otherwise." He raised his eyebrows and Jess nodded. She was following him. Reality itself was subjective, and he was referring to being labeled, something he, of all people, couldn't be. "So, _Jesster_," he gripped her shoulders, eye contact significant, "_just _because whatever's in _your_ head isn't exactly what they _want _it to be, doesn't mean it's what it _shouldn't_ be. You're starting to see that. _You're_ just not betraying the way things _are_." He tilted his chin down, and the way his dark eyes bore up at her—so unwavering, so sure—deepened her certainty that she was hearing the truth. When next he spoke, his voice was softer, cracking a little. "Being yourself… you can't tell _me_ that's fucked up."

"Is that what you do?" Jess said, wanting some common ground. She'd be able to understand more clearly. "Be yourself?"

"I _do_ what _I_ _want_ to do," the Joker replied. "It's the same thing."

"And right and wrong are subjective."

"Uh huh."

"So… there's no sin in this?" Jess turned to look at the corpse, eyebrows furrowed. "I didn't do anything wrong?" The Joker regarded her silently for a moment, eyes lidded, expression flat.

"_Sin_?" he asked, as though he couldn't quite believe he'd heard the word come out of her mouth. He smacked his lips contemptuously. "Listen, Jesster, what did you _lose_ by doing this?" He licked his lips and waved a hand, modifying the question, "Besides whatever _purity_ you like to imagine you were born with." His scorn was palpable. Jess turned back to glare at him.

"I'm well past thoughts of inherent purity," she said icily, "so don't say it like that. I was just thinking…" Suddenly, his hand was around her throat—not hard, not enough to disrupt her breathing—and he pulled her towards him by it, bringing their faces close together, meeting her eyes.

"_You're_ not answering my _question_," the Joker intoned, with that quiet, sing-song tenor that warned her to watch what she said _very_ closely. Jess inhaled shakily.

"Nothing," she whispered. "I didn't lose anything."

"Right," he agreed, removing his hand, eyes flicking left and right. "And, uh, what did you _gain_?"

"You," Jess said, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a sneer. He didn't like that answer. "Your life, I mean. You're still alive."

"And we _both_ know you're all… _concerned_ about _keeping_ me that way," he said. He leaned back and clapped his hands right in Jess's face. "So. We've weighed the pros and cons."

"Not for Alex," Jess said, wanting him to fill this hole in his logic, if only for her own peace of mind. The Joker stared at her for a long second after she said his name, then looked at the corpse and realized that was who she was referring to. As soon as comprehension dawned, he erupted into high pitched, contemptuous laughter, staring her right in the eyes—and Jess had probably never felt more foolish.

"The _stiff_?" the Joker howled, wheezing as his fingers gripped her shoulders tightly. His red slicked lips stretched over yellowed teeth and his body shook with hysterical convulsions, as if her thoughts of Alex's well-being were simply ridiculous. Which, perhaps, they were. "What…" he paused to crack up anew. "What _exactly_ do Alex's options have to do with _you_? He doesn't _have_ pros and cons anymore!"

Jess opened her mouth to argue, but he was talking over her before she could get a word in.

"It's a _dog_ eat _dog _world," he told her, serious suddenly, pointing at her to accentuate his argument. "_You_ oughta look out for _yourself_… Forget all the other little… _rats_ in the race."

"You're mixing metaphors," Jess whispered, because it was all she could think to say. The Joker sent her a withering glance, smacked his lips and looked away, eyes darting, distracted by all the miniscule details of the parking lot Jess couldn't and wouldn't notice.

"Y'know," he turned back to her, thoughts scattered, gesturing around at the area in general, "_this_ place would make a _great_ execution yard. Flat stretch of ground, big brick firing wall…" He nodded. "All we need _now_ are a couple of _rifles_."

"Joker," Jess said, trying to regain his attention.

"Hm?"

She looked at him for a long moment, trying to figure out what to say, what she wanted _him_ to say. But really, he'd given his advice. There wasn't much else for him to tell her. Jess blew out her lips and put her hand to her forehead, exasperated, especially when his expression went flat.

"Jesster," he growled, "_what_?" Jess sighed. The best thing to do, she decided, was to put Alex out of her mind. The Joker was right. When given the choice between herself and an arrogant nobody gangster, she'd chosen herself. Well, really, she'd chosen the Joker. But the fact was, the ex-gangster no longer mattered. She couldn't start _blaming_ anyone. It was done. What she _really_ needed was a hug.

"I think this would make a good execution yard, too," she said, swallowing her desire to reignite the conversation. The Joker looked mildly appeased and surprised at her comment. Jess groaned and stamped her foot, not giving him a chance to reply.

"Will you just kiss me now?"

His eyebrows popped up at this, and his lips curled back—she couldn't be sure whether it was a sneer or something slightly less scathing. He looked side to side, then behind him, his fingers toying with the tie at his neck.

"Uh, that's kind of…" Jess was getting frustrated with his mocking. She stepped towards him and the corner of his mouth rose. "Kind of _forward_ of you, Jess. Don't you girls have, like, _cooties_?"

Jess reached out to try to pluck his hand away from where it fiddled with his necktie, but he slapped her away, giggling his delighted closed-mouth giggle. Pursing her lips, she grabbed the front of his vest in her fist, and his laugh grew breathy as he looked down at her clenched hand. She pulled, and he took a patronizing step forward, smiling, his hips tilted toward her. He seemed intrigued, gratified. Jess had to wonder whether he liked her submissive or brazen best.

"No, no, no," he said, "don't touch me. I'll get _infected_."

"God, are you always this difficult or is it just me?"

His responding giggle was muffled as she pressed her mouth against his, tasting greasepaint, a swell of satisfaction rising when his arms wrapped themselves around her waist, by now so familiar it felt as if they were melded. Jess reflected that they had always clicked together—the first time he'd held her, she'd noticed it—like pieces of a puzzle. She was just the right height to tuck her head under his chin if he stood up straight (though he never did), and he was larger than her without being _too_ large.

She didn't think she'd ever stop appreciating the feel of his solid chest, or the hard angles of his hipbones. He was so skinny, but so warm—she could feel every twitch and jump of his muscles, every shudder, every tensing. Jess buried her fingers in his stringy curls, loving the rather unpleasantly greasy texture because it was _his_. There was nothing revolting about him anymore; Jess didn't see why she'd ever thought there was. He was a perfectly vibrating mass of energy, divine, influential.

It was a rush, being wanted by something that powerful.

She'd been so blind. It made her cringe, thinking back to when she'd first come to Gotham. How she'd _embarrassed_ herself…

And then, right in the middle of that thought, right as the Joker's tongue slipped between her lips and their kiss deepened, Jess felt it.

It started at the base of her spine, very soft, very mild, akin to the shiver you get when someone runs a finger along a cluster of nerves. It spread up her back, made the hairs at the nape of her neck stand on end, made her clench her fingers into the Joker's arm. The air was suddenly electric around them and—was it just her imagination?—his fervor intensified; he forced her head back and kissed her harder, hands roaming along her body. The atmosphere felt tense, on edge, almost off-balance, as though they were careening down a hill in a brakeless car, their pace growing steadily. _What the hell is happening_?

It made it impossible to stop kissing him, though she wanted to break away and ask what was going on. This was not normal—it was too… _tangible_, too unmistakably _abnormal_ to be her imagination. Perhaps an electric storm was in the works? Thunder and lightning brewing?

The clear sky shot down that hypothesis.

His fingers dug into her back painfully—he was rocking back and forth, bouncing up and down, shifting her endlessly in his arms like he couldn't find a comfortable position. She linked her arms around his neck and closed her eyes, kind of hoping the rush of energy would end. It was frantic and violent; frightening. Jess wondered if the Twenty were feeling it too. This wasn't something born of the kiss she was engaged in; this was something bigger, far beyond that… universal, even.

She didn't know _how_ she knew that, but she did.

The electric surge—for absolute lack of a better term—peaked, driving the Joker into frenzy. Jess was turned around suddenly and slammed into the bus—a position that was turning out to be unreasonably familiar—and she felt a stirring of fear as she wondered exactly how far this was going to go. It felt so out of control and she didn't know why. He wasn't being particularly rough or forceful. It wasn't him.

And, just like that, the rush of energy left. Jess felt it fall away as quickly as it had seized them and the Joker, though he did not relinquish her mouth, relaxed significantly. His fingers stopped pressing into her flesh and his body inched away, leaving space when before he'd pushed against her as fully as he could. His intense, biting kisses faded to lazy grazes, sucking softly on her lower lip before he pulled away. For a moment, his dark stare bore into hers, their faces half an inch apart, and he smiled slowly, eyes lidded. Jess inhaled for the first time in what felt like hours.

"What was that?" she whispered. The Joker's broad, sudden grin told her he knew exactly what she was talking about.

Instead of giving her a straight answer, however, he said, "_That_ was _kissing_." She glared at him, and he shrugged, straightening and running a hand through his hair. "You asked for it." Jess opened her mouth, but his gloved hand shot forward, covering from her nose down with his broad palm and long fingers. He gave her a very significant—yet inscrutable—look for a long moment. "You talk too much," he said, then dropped his hand and turned around, heading for the building. "Come on. Inside."

Jess followed him slowly, pausing only once to look at the corpse—which, now, somehow, seemed so inconsequential—before she pushed through the warehouse door.

* * *

"…fucked by Zeus? Any way you look at it, your ass is gettin' struck by lightning."

Know, then, the words Jess was greeted with upon approaching a knot of men near the hostages. The group erupted into rowdy laughter at this, and Jess stood there a moment, bemused, unable keep an uncomprehending giggle from escaping. She reached up as she laughed to touch Blake's thick arm—he was standing with his back to her, hands on his hips, guffawing heartily. As soon as her fingers brushed his skin he turned to her, still chuckling deeply. His smile faltered for half a second when their eyes met, but he forced it back and made eye contact, acting very casual.

"Hey, princess," he said. Jess searched his gaze for a real reaction and found some kind of hidden emotion, but it could have been anything. His smile could mask so much.

So she grinned back and leaned against his shoulder, folding herself into the circle, noticing for the first time that three of the seven men were from the Chechen's gang. She wondered fleetingly if slicked hair was really fashionable here or something. These men liked their grease.

"It's good you're here, actually. I want to introduce you to some of our new colleagues." Blake motioned at the Russians, the look on his face revealing that his first impression of them was good. They looked pleasant enough, and one of them reached forward for her hand, his shake firm and warm. Jess felt a pang of guilt, secrecy—she wondered how they'd react if they knew she'd just killed Alex.

"Pleasure to meet you Jess," the gangster said. "I'm Sid." Jess noted his slick black ponytail and nicotine stained fingers, almost all of which bore thick, elaborate rings. Classic.

"You already know my name," she said. "Neat trick." She heard the sarcasm as the words were coming out of her mouth and wondered when it had become so easy to maintain control and confidence. She didn't really feel intimidated by these gun-wielding men, though she once would have. Sid's mouth twitched and he shrugged.

"Oh, yeah," he replied, his smile a little uneasy. "Your reputation precedes you." Jess grinned at that. She liked this guy already. "This is Benny," he said, motioning to the man on his left. Jess shook hands, watching the thick ropes of muscle along Benny's beefy forearms. His smile was as crooked as his nose, which looked as though it had been broken at least three times, and he wore a golden hoop through one of his ears. "And this is Marshal—we just call him Fry."

Fry was probably the best looking guy Jess had encountered in Gotham. He was tall, slender and impeccably dressed in a tailored grey suit which matched his ice-cool eyes. His dark brown hair fell in soft waves to the nape of his neck and he'd pushed it carelessly away from his brow so that a single tousled tendril framed the defined contours of his face.

Jess stared at him for a long time as she shook his hand, a little surprised; she hadn't had such a pleasantly strong reaction to a guy since meeting the Joker. But, for some reason, now it felt different. Her lack of self-consciousness was positively striking—she found herself approaching him as though she had the upper hand by default, even though he was clearly better looking than her. But she felt wanted immediately, even though his smile was nonchalant, as though he wasn't out of her league. As though he'd be lucky to have her.

"_Fry_," she said, nodding. "You'll have to explain that one." His chuckle was low and smooth.

"Long story," he replied. "I'll tell it to you sometime."

"Looking forward to it," she said, not wanting it to sound as flirtatious as it did. It was terrible to even entertain notions concerning this guy… Too dangerous for everyone involved. But the words had popped out in a teasing tone that wasn't exactly subtle.

Fry leaned back and smiled, giving nothing away, but Jess didn't miss the way Blake's eyebrows shot up his forehead. She leaned into him slowly, pretending nothing was the matter, and dug her fingers into his back, as silent and clear a "don't say a goddamn word" as she could give him. He coughed and shifted away from her, focusing back on Sid.

"Uh," Blake said, stiffly reaching up to put his arm around Jess and squeeze her shoulder with his fingertips, "so now you can tell the other guys you've met her, and she's chill, right?"

Sid glanced at her and Jess caught a look in his glittering black eyes—wariness, uncertainty. By the hard edge to Blake's voice—as though this was a subtly issued order—it seemed as though Sid didn't really have a choice in the matter. He clearly had not made up his mind himself that she was "chill," but Blake wanted him to say it.

"Oh," Sid said, "sure, yeah, I can do that for youse, Blake. Little thing like her's not a danger to nobody." He didn't even try to say it with conviction, though why he'd think she was a threat was beyond her… Unless… _Did he know about Alex? Already?_

"Right," Blake said. "Good. Thanks. Jess, I need to talk…"

"Sid!" Someone was heading towards them from the front door, fast. Jess could see the urgency in his body language from here, and when he got closer she noticed his whitened face and wide, angry eyes. Blake tensed as the man approached, pulling her into him, watching him with suspicion. "You hear about Alex?" he demanded, eyes focused solely on Sid.

Jess went cold and immediately tense, watching him closely, wondering what he was going to do. He was visibly shaken, upset; she hoped this wouldn't go badly.

Sid opened his mouth to answer, but the man read the yes in his expression before he could and put a fist—clenched tightly around a gun—to his forehead.

"What the fuck, man?" he said. "What are we gonna-"

At this point, he noticed Jess.

"You!" he exclaimed, rounding on her. Jess shrunk back as Blake puffed up, forcing her behind him, using his height to tower over the Russian, who faltered a little in his pursuit. He gestured at her with the gun, blatantly threatening. "This little bitch is-"

"Hey," Sid clapped a hand on his guy's shoulder, hard enough that the man flinched, and pulled him back. "Calm yourself, alright? The girl is chill. Don't worry about her."

"You fuckin' kidding me? She-"

"_Hey_," It snapped out of Sid's mouth with so much authority the man shrank under his gaze. "I said leave it, alright?" He pulled him towards him, voice lowering as he gave him an extremely significant look. "You'll get yourself killed."

The Russian relaxed slightly and broke away from Sid, turning to look at Jess for a moment with hard eyes. The threat there wasn't difficult to read. A wave of fear broke over her; maybe this whole thing had more ramifications than she thought.

He stalked away and Jess let out a shaky breath, only slightly comforted by Blake's arm around her. Sid glanced at her, apologetic, and turned to leave the awkward situation.

Blake steered her away to a set of grated metal stairs which led up to the warehouse's second level—a series of railed walkways that wound around the perimeter of the room. They were out of earshot and barely noticeable up here, and that fact made Jess a little anxious as Blake turned to her, hands on her shoulders. He didn't speak for a long moment; _now _he was trying to maintain eye contact, which _she_ was the one to evade as she looked down to the people at ground level. When the silence stretched on, she gestured in Sid's direction.

"The fuck was that?" she asked mildly. Blake followed her gaze, and as he looked out over the warehouse, Jess examined him. She noticed for the first time the dark circles under his eyes, the white pallor of his face. He looked… troubled, deeply troubled. She reached up and put a hand on his.

"Are you alright?" he demanded, turning back to her quickly, as though he was rushing to get the words out. "Just… just tell me you're alright after that. I gotta know. Tell me you haven't gone back in your head or anything. I've seen guys do that, more than once, after they… when they first…"

"Blake…" Jess said, completely softened by his concern. She found his eyes, tentative to meet her gaze, and smiled gently in a way she hoped would ease her fears. "I'm fine. Totally fine. I swear." He searched her eyes for a moment.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I swear." Blake took his hands from her, letting out a deep breath and closing his eyes in clear relief.

"Okay," he sighed. "That's all I needed to hear."

Jess was glad she'd been able to mollify him. She smiled, but when next he met her eye there was something disturbing about his expression. It was kind of a familiar look, wolfish, one she'd only seen once or twice on his face, and it made her uneasy. She tensed, regarding him for a moment, but he didn't move, didn't say anything. His facial expression didn't even flicker—he wasn't hiding the fact that there was some kind of dark thought going through his head. Jess frowned, but had no idea how to mention something like this. She was afraid to.

"Okay…" she said, still staring at him. "Let's go then." Blake nodded, looking grim. Jess stood for a moment longer, regarding him as one might watch a coiled snake; she wondered whether he could see the lack of trust in her eyes. But he made no move against her—when had _this_ become a worry? He was being so weird!—and she turned to head down the stairs.

She almost expected it. When it happened, she could look back and immediately see it coming. The only reason she'd turned her back on him in the first place had been because he was _Blake_, but his behavior had been a clear warning, almost intentional. Jess had always overestimated the loyalty of those close to her; from now on, she promised herself in the instant she hit the floor, she would never do so again. You couldn't trust _anyone_.

The crack of the gun handle against her skull probably was not as heavy a blow as it felt, though Jess wouldn't have been surprised if her head was split in two. It hurt so badly at first that she couldn't make a noise as her legs gave out and she tumbled to the grated floor, hands gripping her hair, weak against the screaming pain. She couldn't see straight; it felt as though the pistol whip had obliterated her inner ear, and her vision was swimming worse than when it was clouded with alcohol. She probably couldn't have gotten up without falling over. Instead, Jess rolled onto her side, let out a pitiful gasp, half a moan, and started to cry despite herself.

Only a tear or two eeked out before she heard Blake hiss "_shit_" and his face swam in and out of her line of sight.

"Sorry about that, Jess," he whispered, a deep well of sincerity in his voice. "And this." Jess willed her limbs into motion and flailed for a second—completely disoriented and distracted by pain—before she felt him move. She didn't even see his arm go up, but a second before the goddamn handle of that fucking gun smashed into her temple she felt his shadow move over her.

And so Blake made Jessica bleed for the first time.

* * *

Jess sat in the old wooden chair, a single lamp hanging over her head, and quietly surveyed her surroundings—everything sterile white, the fluorescent glow garish and pristine. A long metal table occupied one corner, but otherwise the room was empty, boring. She was sure, though she didn't know why, that making noise would be a very bad thing, given this situation. Rising from the chair didn't occur to her for another moment, but upon trying she found she was simply unable to. That was disturbing, because whatever was coming into this room next had a lot of power over her, especially like this.

Straitjackets were rather binding, she thought. She wished she could move her arms, but the coarse fabric prevented any range of motion more strenuous than shrugging. It cut into her at odd places on her back and arms, but that was likely part of the torture—a special straitjacket that actually pained its victim. J would like that idea.

"Why are you here?" The voice was coming from behind her, low and smooth and masculine. Jess turned and noticed a tall man in the opposite corner, wearing a grey suit, too-long hair falling to his shoulders in dark ringlets. His appearance was wholly commonplace; there was nothing about him more interesting than the rest of the drab chamber.

"I signed up for this," she replied as truthfully as she could. The man nodded, coming forward.

"When was that?"

Jess thought. Timelines seemed irrelevant.

"I don't remember… I was very young." The man in the grey suit turned to look around the room with clear distaste. He approached the metal table, skimming long fingers across the cool surface, gazing into it as though it was a looking glass.

"A shitty place to spend the rest of your life," he remarked. Jess shrugged, the straitjacket somehow managing to dig into her wrists.

"I like it," she said, looking toward a window in the corner, one she hadn't noticed before. "I don't mind." Her eyes fixed on the stream of sunlight coming through, the only thing visible through the pane, and took a moment to bask in it. The illumination overwhelmed her retinas, filling them with white sunshine. She hadn't noticed the sun in a long time…

Her concentration broke after who-knows-how-long and Jess snapped back into reality, turning abruptly to look at the white chamber. It had darkened significantly since she'd been staring out the window—that light, too, had retreated the moment she took her eyes off it—and now long shadows stretched across the floor. The room was filled with uneasy foreboding, its air stagnant and stale, and there was something decidedly less sterile, less pristine about it now. A layer of dust, she saw, had crept over the metal table, and the walls were stained with mold and the grime of neglect.

A keen whine filled the air, almost quiet enough to be ignorable, almost high enough to be unbearable.

The man in the grey suit was gone.

Jess stood, finding she was free of the straitjacket. Escape had never looked so good; this place really gave her the creeps. At the door she paused and looked back at the chair in which she'd sat. A dark, oily stain coated it and the floor under it, greasy, sluggishly unfurling at its edges. Jess wondered if she had tainted the chair, or if it had been contaminated long before her. She didn't think it mattered.

The darkness of the hallway beyond was not enough to hide the damage done by years of abandonment, by the vile entities that haunted this place. Shadows saturated the very walls, and when they wrapped Jess in their obscurity she could almost hear the distant wails of tortured memories.

Images flashed through her mind, lending her unprecedented insight into the cause behind the atmosphere. She saw pale, sickly, absent faces wearing hysterical grins; a man with a burlap sack over his head jabbing rusty needles into his own arms; a padded white cell where one man chewed furiously on the head of another; a young boy bringing supper to a disturbed, delirious mother and finding she'd slit her wrists in bed…

"I see it! And it is a bat! _A bat_!"

She didn't know where the voice had come from, but it didn't matter very much. She had to find the clock tower. It was very important that she do so, and she knew it was somewhere in the asylum. She started down the hallway, heart pounding, noticing the ludicrous height of the magnificent arched ceiling, the way the darkness pooled around the top as though incubating, growing, evolving. The lushly papered walls on either side were peeling in long strips, black mold eating along the edges. She must have been in a visitor's corridor. Patient hallways weren't _papered_.

The hallway split, one fork swallowed by impenetrable darkness a few yards ahead, the other leading to a set of wide double security doors, metal, fortified windows set at eye level. Jess headed for them immediately, steered along without knowing why, and gripped the huge, rusting handle. The doors pulled open with the squealing click of a corroded latch, exposing the shadows beyond, which were accompanied by a rank smell, akin to something rotten slowly burning. It was the scent of the patient corridors, of years of grief and madness, of feces and blood and sickly sweat. Jess stepped into it, the door closing behind her, and immediately felt the immensity of the long maze of hallways and passages and cells, twisting and rambling, multistoried, highly ordered yet highly disorienting.

There were three paths ahead, two going off to the right and left, one leading straight into a rickety old lift. Without pausing to even consider her choices, Jess headed right for the dangerous elevator, the gate of which was rusted to black and red grime. She was drawn towards it, like a needle to a magnet, the promise of where it might take her too much to refuse, its menace only making it more appealing. She had to get to the clock tower, and she knew it was somewhere on the floors above.

The elevator's gears squealed to life when she prodded the call button, and a huge platform descended slowly, coming to a shuddering halt behind the gate, which jangled apart to let her through. Jess stepped inside and looked towards the control panel, which had misplaced nearly every one of its buttons. The only one still functioning, big and black on the very top row, was the button for floor nine. She jammed her finger into it and the elevator doors rattled close.

When the lift shuddered to a stop and the gate clanged open, Jess was faced with an ominous sight: a huge rectangular hole in the wall where another set of security doors had been ripped off their hinges. One of the doors lay in a crumpled heap in the threshold, the very metal torn like a sheet of paper. The other door was long gone.

There was a sign over this foreboding entrance, stained with grime and who knows what else, grandly announcing the name of this wing: High Security Ward. Somewhere down the hall, from the dark that overwhelmed everything, high-pitched, crazed laughter rang forth, disturbed and unnerving. Soon more voices joined in, talking or singing or yelling but mostly laughing; chains began to rattle; pounding started, from many different directions, as though people were beating at the walls. Chaos mounted, and over it all a new laugh rose, echoing through the space, its tone and quality instantly recognizable.

Jess sprinted towards it as soon as she realized what it was, forgetting whatever hesitancy had had her waiting before the doors. The blackness of the hall surrounded her, and when she finally came upon the cells they were so brightly lit she had to shield her eyes. She peered through the wide, grimy security windows at the patients therein, surrounded by high white walls and bare furniture.

The first held an old man strapped to a gurney, wrapped in a straitjacket, muttering to himself, his eyes wide with fear.

In the next, something huge stood with its scaly back to her, vaguely human, its skin a mottled yellow-green, over nine feet tall and built of solid muscle. It didn't turn to look at her, but she could hear it growling.

Next she came across a bony, naked form in the fetal position, deep etchings of what appeared to be tally-marks covering his body. He looked up as soon as she was level with his cell and smiled, showing his blackened gums.

"I have a spot for you, too," he croaked at her. Jess didn't know how she could hear him from behind security glass, but she could. "A special spot, all for you. Want to see it?" He stretched out his left hand and presented his palm, which was unscarred and tally-less. Jess moved on quickly. She could still hear her target giggling from somewhere up ahead.

It took five more seconds to locate him, and she halted quickly before his glass to peer inside as one might peer at a lion in the zoo. He was sitting on his bed, back hunched and feet planted wide apart, watching her as closely as she watched him. He looked thinner, too thin, and his usually curly hair hung in lank, pitiful waves. His makeup was smeared badly, but when his eyes found hers they were still full of that old fiery intensity, and his genuinely-pleased-to-see-her smile was just as gorgeous as ever.

"Hear you met Zsasz," he remarked as a greeting. Jess pressed herself against the glass as he stood and approached her leisurely, a long finger stretching out to trace a line down the window over her face.

"J," Jess said longingly, wishing she could get inside. "We have to get you out of there!" The Joker smiled.

"Wanna trade?" he asked, gesturing around. "No other way to do it." Jess nodded enthusiastically, looking around for the door and finally spotting it in a dark niche, next to the adjacent cell's entrance. She gripped the handle and pulled, meeting extreme resistance.

"It's locked!" she wailed towards J, who started giggling uselessly.

"Don't _you_ have the key?" a voice rasped from behind her, and Jess spun to look at the cell opposite, where a skeletal face had pushed itself up against the glass. "_I_ was told _you_ have it." Jess nodded and started patting at her pockets, thinking perhaps that the man in grey had given it to her before he'd left. Sure enough, after a moment she pulled a heavy iron key from her jeans, examining it before shoving it into the keyhole on the Joker's cell door. The lock clicked.

The Joker sprung past her as soon as the door was pulled wide, pausing only briefly to turn and cup her chin in his hand. With a little push, he sent her stumbling back into the cell to fall against the hard cot. Hearing the door slam shut before she had time to turn around, she raced to the window, trying to glimpse him one last time in the hallway. He gazed at her solemnly for a long moment, eyes flicking around to examine the room that had once held him, the one which now kept her trapped. Jess flattened her palms against the thick glass, caught between being ecstatic to help him and irritated at his lack of reaction to this sacrifice.

"Meet me up there," he told her, his voice more muted by the glass than it had been before, and he pointed up. The clock tower, of course; that was his destination as well.

"How do I get out?" Jess queried, but he only laughed at her, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. He came towards the glass quickly, leaned forward and planted an exaggerated smooch on it, leaving a messy smear of red greasepaint that only vaguely resembled lips.

"You're the one with the key," he told her, his voice ominous, and sauntered off into the darkness.

Jess turned and regarded the cot, imagining his form still lying on it. She sank down, feeling the receding warmth from his body, curling up in it and pretending she could still smell him on the thin, starched sheets. The voices echoing from other high security cells started to fade, high pitched shrieks going distant and muffled, and the cell lights dimmed, too. Jess was suddenly in what seemed to be the only illuminated chamber on the block, and looking out the window yielded nothing but a deep, pressing black. She headed for the door, hardly pausing to consider whether or not it was locked, and pushed it open easily.

The corridor beyond spoke of the passing of a great amount of time since she'd first wandered down it; all of the cells were empty now, some of the glass panes having been shattered and the doors being flung wide or ripped away. Great cracks had appeared in the stone walls, and long black patterns of blood were smeared along the floor. A breakout, a massive one. She couldn't help feeling relieved for them.

But how long had it been since then? How long had Jess been in that cell? Weeks? Months? Years? The whole atmosphere was even more ancient and oppressive than it once had been; more tortured memories had been made, more lives destroyed. Jess started down the hall in the direction the Joker had gone, knowing she was getting very, very close.

A spiraling metal staircase melted abruptly into view, as though materializing from the very shadows, the cheap, grainy iron rusting and peeling away. Jess craned her neck as she followed it up into the rafters, its upper steps evaporating into darkness; she couldn't tell how high it was or where it led, but she knew the moment she saw it that she was going to scale it. When her foot settled on the first tread, the entire structure shuttered and creaked, threads of dust and plaster falling from somewhere high above.

The instability made her pause for a moment, but this was the only path she had anymore. Jess started to climb.

She heard the clock begin to toll about halfway up the stairs, a long while after darkness had obscured every surrounding visual. She'd been ascending in pitch dark for a long time, hands clasped on the railing, and suddenly the entire building was shaking with the shuddering boom of the timepiece's huge bronze gong. Jess started to run, understanding that the precious minutes were ticking by; she'd already wasted, what, years in that cell.

The clock tolled three times, and Jess was suddenly at the top platform of the stairs, still grasping the iron rails. J was there, partially obscured by the huge bronze clockwork mechanism in the center of the room, his tall frame silhouetted by moonlight against the gargantuan clock face. Jess started for him, lifting her foot to leave the top step, but J held up his hand to halt her.

"_Don't_, don't, don't," he said, his soft voice carrying over the loud mechanical ticking. Jess froze, planting both feet firmly on the iron grated stair. The Joker turned slowly, the blue moonlight casting him in surreal light, making his hair look impossibly green. "Jesster," he said, his smile vicious. "You made it."

He raised his arms, gesturing around the room, and executed a whimsical twirl. Suddenly, the clock began to toll again, and this close to its automated innards the sound was nigh-deafening, making the entire stairway shudder hideously. Jess gripped the railing, increasingly suspicious of the soundness of this structure. It felt like it could collapse any minute.

"What am I doing here, J?" Jess asked. The Joker stared at her for a long moment before, finally, shrugging.

"You tell me," he said, coming closer. "_What_ are you doing here?"

"I followed you."

"Uh huh. And, uh… where did _that_ get you?" Jess looked around. It had seemed like such a long, great journey.

The clock tolled. How many times now? Six? No. Seven.

But where was she, really? If this was the prize for all her trouble—this dark, rusty room bathed in moonlight, a shaky structure at one end, a madman at the other—was it really all worth it?

Another rolling toll. Eight. The structure gave a huge, quaking jerk.

"I'm here with you…" It was almost a question from Jess's lips. This experience had been so difficult, so dark, so scary. Now that it was nearly over, had love been worth chasing?

"_Me_," the Joker sneered. The clock struck nine and Jess nearly lost her balance. "How _sweet_. Let me tell you somethin', Jesster." He reached her in five long strides, reaching out to run his fingers along her cheek, and the clock boomed ten. He leaned in, his lips half an inch from hers, his nose touching hers, and Jess could feel the sweep of his breath as he whispered. "You're never gonna get what you _want_ by chasing _me_."

He was right. She hadn't wanted any of this, but somehow she was addicted to it. And now it wasn't what she wanted, but what she _needed_. She _needed _him.

His lips touched hers, warm and authoritative. The clock pealed eleven, and something broke in the structure below. Jess felt the entire metal staircase give out from under her, felt J's hands fall from her face and his lips leave her mouth.

A moment before she began to fall, her head started to pound horribly.

* * *

**Whew. Loooooooong one! :) I hope you liked it! I know I don't deserve it, but pleeeeeeease review! I worked really hard on that symbol-laden dream. Love you all!**


	35. Chapter 35

**My beautiful readers:**

**Welcome to the final chapter of **You Can't Spell Slaughter Without Laughter**. I hope you've enjoyed the journey. I know I have. The last four—seriously, FOUR?—years writing this story have been an insanely amazing journey. I appreciate every single person who has ever read this, and I really hope this ending does not disappoint. It was surreal writing it, actually—I've known how it ends the whole time, and I'm staying true to my original vision. I hope you get at least some kind of closure haha :P**

**So now this huge project, which, at times, took up an enormous chunk of my life and at other times was tucked away and forgotten, is at an end. I loved writing it. I love being on this site with you people. Thank you so much for the experience!**

**I told you last time about the sequel, which will hopefully be out before too long. I hope you hang on, because there's a lot more coming. As we all know, the whole point of **_**The Dark Knight**_** is that the Joker does not die at the end—otherwise Batman would become exactly what he vowed he never would. Instead, our clown is sent to Arkham, or so I assume. So there is a lot of potential for aggressive expansion. He's still out there, and I will still write about him :) So keep an eye out for **Caligula in Red**, coming soon to a browser near you. **

**Now, I know I've done this before, but if I get 600 reviews by the end of this story I will probably die of happiness. Please let me know what you thought of the story overall, the good and the bad! It's the first thing I've ever finished writing (EVER), so I'd REALLY appreciate some feedback!**

**I love and respect you all! Thank you for the great past few years!**

**With no more ado, the final chapter of **You Can't Spell Slaughter Without Laughter**.**

* * *

We paint the foil with the flame  
Smell of soda, taste butane  
For every fear that can't be named to calm you down.  
Your heart starts skipping steps,  
So you're farther gone than you might expect.  
If your thoughts should turn to death  
Gotta stomp them out like a cigarette

-Bright Eyes, "Down in a Rabbit Hole"

* * *

Jess's eyes popped open an instant before blind pain split through her skull. Immediately reflexive, she groaned and rolled into a ball, bringing her hands weakly up to grasp at the hair falling lankly into her eyes. She felt the stringy wetness by her right ear where a fair amount of blood had seeped through her hair, fumbled shaking fingers around the painful—but certainly not grave—gash just above her temple. Her head was pounding and it hurt to move her eyes, to look around or close them, to do anything but lay there for a long moment, eyes buried in the crook of her elbow.

From what she could gather, the room she was in was dark and silent, a distinct blessing given the circumstances. The floor under her shivering body was cold granite, but someone had draped a large leather jacket over her, which smelled of cigarette smoke and men's deodorant. It smelled like Blake.

There was a horrible taste in Jess's mouth, and for a moment she thought she might have vomited in her sleep. Finding the strength to examine the floor around her head for any unsightly puke stains, and after finding none, Jess went about checking her body for injury. Her head hurt like a bitch, but otherwise she seemed unharmed. Her hands and ankles hadn't been bound, but when she glanced at her inner wrist she noticed a dark black mark marring her skin. Frowning, Jess slid her red sleeve up her forearm and gazed at the writing there, bold and black, apparently made by a Sharpie. On her arm were four cryptic numbers: 5377. Why they were there and who had written them were beyond her, and in the absence of any immediate answers, Jess raised her eyes to the rest of the large chamber.

She seemed to be in a high rise building with floor to ceiling windows along every wall, which framed a breathtaking view of the nighttime cityscape, of the millions of twinkling lights and the hulking shadows of taller buildings in the distance. Exposed iron beams crisscrossed the ceiling above her head, and she could tell from the clusters of bare wire in the walls and the empty feel of the place that this building was being newly constructed. But when it was finished, it would surely be a high class joint.

An out of service elevator shaft, its wide open doors revealing the intersecting beams of the scaffolding inside, stood across the room from its twin lift, which looked to be in service, fashionable, streamlined and efficient. Jess stared at the shiny metal doors for a long moment, inexplicably bothered by them… She'd had some kind of scary dream, something to do with an elevator or falling…

Then the working elevator dinged and the doors slid open smoothly, nearly soundless, revealing Blake, who stepped from the brightly lit interior.

Jess bolted upright into a seated position, heart pounding as hard as her aching head, and scrambled away from him as quickly as she could. He caught sight of her scooting backwards along the ground, but didn't make a move toward her. She couldn't quite make out his expression in this light; she was sure hers was clearly evident.

Shortly, the pounding in her skull forced her to stop moving. With the slightest shift, it felt like handfuls of metallic marbles were being pelted against her head. She put her hands to her temples again, groaning, dizzy with the effort of hasty movement, and hunched as tightly as she could over her knees. Perhaps, if she ignored him, he'd go away.

But no. She heard his heavy boots along the floor, closing the distance between them; heard the rustle of his clothes as he sank to his haunches a foot or two away. She longed to stretch out her leg and aim a kick or several at his groin, but she wasn't convinced that the damage she could do would be worth the splitting headache. He was much larger than her, much stronger. Jess had never been so scared of Blake before; she didn't like the feeling. Not at all.

There was silence for a long moment. Jess certainly wasn't going to be the first to speak, but Blake didn't seem to know what to say. She thought he might have expected to encounter her wrath, the way she reacted against the Joker—lashing out, blind fury compelling her actions. He was jarred by her fear and pain, not knowing how much effort it took to keep a lid on the anger bubbling under the surface. She wanted to scream at him, but her head simply hurt too much; she was simply too tired.

Jess really was exhausted.

"Glad you're up, princess," Blake said finally. She didn't meet his eye, sitting stiff and stoic, her face cast in stone. Blake sighed. "I'm sorry," he said. Jess met his gaze now, lips compressed thinly, scornful of the fact that he thought that would change anything.

"Well, thanks, Blake," she croaked, derisive, unprepared for how gravelly her voice sounded. "I really appreciate that." Her tone was blatantly venomous, the consonants sharp and aggressive. Blake cringed, looking out the windows.

"I understand if you won't forgive me," he said, and Jess could hear how hard he was trying to maintain his calm. "But I didn't do that to you for shits and giggles. You gotta know that." Jess put her hand to the wound on her head. Looking around was starting to hurt a little less, but she was going to have a serious goose-egg to deal with, not to mention all the obnoxious blood leaking into her hair.

"Oh yeah?" Jess hissed, leaning forward to look him in the eye. He was so ashamed; he suddenly couldn't meet her gaze again, the way he hadn't been able to for the last couple hours. How long had he been planning this? "Who put you up to it, then?" Blake sighed again and scratched the back of his head.

"Jess…" he said, like he was pleading with her. She simply kept staring. Honestly, she had no idea _why_ he'd done it. She was furious with him, but she wanted to know.

"Huh, Blake?"

"Jessica…" He didn't want to say?

"_Yes_?" Silence from the blond man. Jess was starting to let her fury register on her face. Her hands clenched as she kept watching his pathetic, shamed expression; it pissed her off even more. She couldn't stand to even _look_ at him, but he was the only one with the answers. "Huh, Blake? I'd really like to know your motives. It's the least you could do." At this, Blake reared up off his haunches, standing swiftly to tower over her; she'd struck some kind of nerve.

"You _know_ who put me up to this," he snapped, frustrated and irritated that she was approaching him with such a "fuck you" attitude.

"No!" Jess said, also trying to stand. She got onto a knee, with one foot planted on the ground, before a rush of pain and dizziness hit and she had to settle back on her calves with a groan, holding her head. "I _don't_ know," she said, voice muffled between her fingers. "I never though _you_ would betray me like this." Blake scoffed, his derisive laugh echoing through the room. Jess dropped her hands and stared at him for a moment, before her anger gave her the strength to try to stand again. This time, she managed to get all the way to her feet. "Don't fucking _laugh _at me, asshole," she exclaimed. "You should be on your _knees_, begging my forgiveness!"

Blake stepped towards her, fighting anger with anger, pointing at her.

"You're not stupid, _right_?" he growled. "Who do you _think_ had me do this?"

"I don't know!" Jess repeated. "Who? Alex? Sid? Some other Russian guy?" She scoffed. "Of all of the Twenty to betray us, I didn't think _you_ would be…"

"God, you really are blind," Blake cut her off. "I mean, I always knew you didn't exactly _run_ on logic, but you let your little fantasies control your life!" He paused, maintaining intense eye contact, and took a breath. "You _really_ don't think he'd ever betray you? You don't think he'd _use_ you if it suited him? You're lucky he hasn't asked us to get rid of you, yet. Because, Jess, no matter how much some of us might like you…" he shook his head. "_One word_. That's all it'd take from him, and you'd be dead. _One_ fuckin' _word._" Jess was silent this time, not quite sure what he was telling her. He read the confusion on her face. "I'm just trying to get you to understand: you're in this _way_ over your head. Do _not_ underestimate him."

"Are you talking about J?" Jess asked fiercely. "What the fuck are you saying?"

"_The Joker_ had me do this!" Blake exclaimed, and Jess felt as though she'd been punched in the gut. "_Okay_? _Get it_? He came up to me when we got back from the docks and told me to knock you out when we had to move." He laughed, a little desperately, and shook his head. "And you know what? I did it without even questioning him. I don't even fucking know _why _he wanted me to, Jess. I still don't! But I knocked you the fuck out, didn't I?"

Jess didn't know how to react to this. She stood there, mouth agape, trying to think of venomous words to spit at him but not finding any. _J_ had put him up to this? Why? There had to be a good reason, but what was it? What reason could _possibly _be good enough?

Anger was overriding her ability to reason and negotiate, to even try to ask Blake to explain. Jess felt betrayed, hurt, aching and furious, and the man before her had caused it, at least in part. Not to mention the man she'd recently had sex with. Christ, on a _bus_, as though her dignity was worth nothing! She'd even saved his life today, forgiven him after everything that had happened, and _this_ was how he repaid her?

She wanted to lash out, hit something, kill something. For an instant, the thought rushed through Jess's mind that she wasn't well, that she needed help; she needed a timeout, a moment to collect herself and think, to prevent herself from going absolutely insane. Being knocked out, especially as she had been for at least twenty minutes, was _incredibly_ bad for you; maybe she was damaged. Her brain felt splintered and unstable and so, so, _so_ tired. God she was so tired…

And rage was all that spurred her on.

"Where is he?" she finally got out, her tone low and flat. Blake's expression of anger morphed suddenly into one of wariness when he got a better look at her face in the moonlight. She wondered how severe her snarl was, how animal she looked. She certainly _felt_ animal, as though her forebrain had completely shut down and she was operating only with the reactive, aggressive brainstem.

"Upstairs, top floor," he said, regarding her cagily. Jess nodded and started towards the elevator, head pounding with every step. Blake caught her arm as she passed him and pulled her roughly and abruptly to a halt. "_Don't_ go up there," he ordered. Jess wrenched away from him.

"Why the fuck _not_?"

"He's got shit to do, Jess! I don't think he wants you distracting him, and you're only gonna piss him off…"

"You know what, Blake?" Jess interrupted. "I'd love to stay and listen to your bullshit, but I want answers." She started marching for the lift again, only to be seized forcefully by the shoulders from behind and pulled away from it, headed instead for the opposite corner of the room.

She ripped out of Blake's grasp and turned to face him, hysteric wrath sprinting through her almost giddily. Jess raised her fists and started pounding on his chest, whaling on him, pushing as hard as she could against his solid form as he grunted and his fingers continued to dig into her shoulders. Finally, Jess sent a flying punch at his mouth, which only grazed on contact but served as the straw that broke the camel's back. Blake sent her sprawling to the floor, her head screaming.

"Fine!" he roared, throwing up his arms. He was terrifying above her, huge and furious. "I've been trying to _protect_ you, you crazy bitch, but I'm _done_! I fucking give up! Go up to your psychotic clown, I don't give a shit." Jess had regained her feet by now, and she took his advice silently and willfully, heading for the elevator. "When he kills you," Blake said from behind her, "I hope you'll remember I told you so. It may not be today, Jesster, but that man _is_ gonna be the death of you. I hope you're not too stupid to fucking see that."

Jess jabbed her finger into the control button and the lift's doors immediately slid open. She stepped into the bright light, turning to face Blake again.

"Go fuck yourself," she told him. The doors slid closed.

That was the last time she'd see him for months.

* * *

The ride from floor eleven to floor twenty eight was silent and uncomfortable, and Jess thought bizarrely that her own company was unbearable. There was simply too much to think about, too much to go through. Too much had happened today, too much had changed. She felt unfocused and overwhelmed and so, so small against all of the factors her life had gained.

But her anger was steady. As long as she didn't think too much, she could hold on to that steadfast feeling, to the ambitions driven by it. It was all she could do to stay together. Otherwise, Jess thought she might simply give up, sit in a corner, slip away into darkness and stay there, silent and alone. She was exhausted emotionally and mentally, wanted nothing more than to sink down on the floor and sleep, but adrenaline was keeping her body going.

The elevator doors dinged and slid open, revealing to Jess a startlingly beautiful view of the city far below. Up here the recent construction was easier to see. A few panes of glass along the floor to ceiling windows were absent, and she could see work tools scattered on the scaffolding platform inside the other elevator. The enormous room, some kind of penthouse studio perhaps, seemed vacant; only the high whistling of wind could be heard.

Jess stepped from the elevator to look around, disappointed by the anticlimax of not immediately finding the Joker here. It was silent for a long moment, and Jess watched the nighttime cityscape outside, eyes taking in the distant beauty of twinkling lights. It called to mind none of the suffering or evil of the city below, disguised itself as a tranquil midnight metropolis. It was kind of it. From here, disassociated, you could almost be comforted by it. As long as you kept your distance, Gotham was heaven.

A low growl caught her attention.

Jess spun around to find two Rottweilers about five yards away, stances guarded, glaring at her. Another one trotted up beside them after a moment, falling flawlessly into line, and Jess backed up a step.

"Hi, puppies…" she cooed pathetically, at a loss for what to do. The dogs continued to watch her silently, hostilely, and Jess had enough time to begin to panic. She couldn't race three territorial animals to the elevator, but nor could she simply stand there forever. She was hesitant to back up any farther; canines could sense fear, right? The word _fuck_ kept echoing in her head, growing steadily louder, an anxious stomach ache building until someone whistled from somewhere behind them.

Jess turned towards the noise as the dogs did, their tails wagging. Letting out little whines of contentment, they all started for the figure emerging from the shadows, tall and thin and absolutely bad. She couldn't look at him without some kind of admiration marring her hatred, without some part of her wanting to be part of him. She resented him for that.

The animals gathered around him, nosing his hands excitedly, and he carelessly patted their heads, never taking his eyes off Jess. He had a real gift with dogs, she thought. He'd only known them since meeting up with the Russians earlier, though she hadn't seen them, but they were clearly enamored of him already, and very defensive.

The Joker didn't say anything. He simply looked at her for a long moment, noting the state she was in, the dried blood in her hair, the raised hackles, the blatant lack of a smile. Finally, Jess grinned sarcastically, venomously, clearly showing him how silent and shaking her rage was, and she shrugged at him.

"I'm up!" she declared, ironically bright, reaching the pinnacle of passive-aggressiveness. "Thanks for that; that was nice. Well needed rest." Her tone was biting.

"Glad you enjoyed it," the Joker said lowly, not smiling. "I thought you might."

"What the fuck, J?" Jess hissed, fed up with the sarcasm. She gestured to the injury behind her ear. "Your fucking _goon_ put a gash in my head. And, it's funny, he told me _you_ asked him to. Which means, I assume, you also asked him to bring me here _with_ you. So I guess I'm just _confused_, J. I guess I'm just _curious_." She was openly snarling at him now, and he wasn't deflecting it with threats or humor. She didn't know what that meant. She doubted very much that he cared enough to be fair to her, but it certainly _seemed_ like he was allowing her to express herself. As though he wanted to hear what she had to say.

That was too much to hope for. Stop thinking like that.

"Ah…" the Joker cleared his throat, raising his eyebrows, his face casual but his body tense. He was _watching_ her, she realized. Like she was a fucking _show_. "I needed you… out of the _way _for a while. This is a _delicate_ operation here, Jesster."

"So you'd opt to lug my unconscious body around, as opposed to having to deal with me when I'm awake?"

The Joker opened his mouth, a small smile spreading the corners, and raised a hand to point at her.

"_You've_ been _extremely _volatile today. Causing _distractions_. I mean, I couldn't _have_ that. Not at this point." He tilted his chin down and gave her a significant look. "Consider it lucky _you're_ even here." Jess opened her mouth to respond, but the Joker had one last comment: "After that little stunt you pulled with Alex, it was good for the Russians to see your unconscious body. One little lie about _punishing_ you and they fall _right_ back into line."

"I saved your _life_," Jess hissed, and the Joker giggled at the back of his throat.

"Ooh, _that's_ right," his tone was ironic, "you sure _did_, Jesster. Thanks for the reminder." Jess stared at him for a long time, silent, and his lidded eyes flicked quickly to the window. Then, slowly, he withdrew a silver pocket-watch from an inner compartment of that purple trench coat. Jess had never seen it before, though it did kind of complete the picture, oddly enough. He opened it with a dexterous twitch of the fingers and checked the time, lips settling in a satisfied way. It was still early. They still had a while.

"Uh…" he began again, glancing back up at her, noting her discontented expression. "You want some kind of reward?" He snorted, turned to the window. "What is it with you people and your _prizes_? You're _always_ looking for _more_ from me—some kind of… _thirst _for _approval_. Let me ask you something. What _else_ do you want?"

"God," Jess said, disgusted by this line of reasoning. "That's _not_ what this is about. I'm fine with what you _give _me for my trouble. I'm just reminding you: I'm not _all_ burden." In fact, she was a little affronted by what he'd said. The Joker rarely read her wrong; indeed, she couldn't remember the last time he had. Was he distracted, or was she simply thinking differently?

"If you were 'all burden,' you wouldn't _be_ here…"

"So why can't you treat me like one of the team, _keep me informed_?" Jess asked, a note of desperation creeping into her voice, no matter how hard she tried to keep it away. "I try as hard as I can, J! I _murdered_ a man for you today…" As she said it, the horrible truth of those words hit her for what felt like the first time, a sweeping, dizzying punch in the gut.

She _had_. She was a killer, a murderer.

Jess had stopped speaking mid-stream, her mouth gaping, still caught on those last few syllables. She couldn't breathe. Why was this happening _now_? Why _here_? Had she simply been in shock before? It hadn't felt that way…

Tears pricked her eyes (_oh goddammit_) and she watched the Joker's face fall into deadpan confusion, then bemusement, then, as her trigger clicked in head, disgust.

Despite all the words he'd said, all the justifications, all the knowledge she'd gained about the way the universe worked, about the truth of reality—Jess was and would always be a murderer. She felt… stained, in a way being close to killers, befriending them, fucking one, had never made her feel. It would come back to haunt her, she had a feeling, for the rest of her life—at night, in bed, when her mind was at rest and she was allowed to ponder. Or perhaps simply at odd times during the day—while grocery shopping, watching a movie, laughing with friends. Her first kill would always stay with her. She hoped its shadow wouldn't always bring this hideous sinking to her gut.

As usual, all of this raced through her head in the space of around seven seconds, just long enough for the Joker to get frustrated with her distraction.

"_Hey_," he snapped his fingers at her, "wake up, Crazy. Y'know, if you wanna be part of the team, you can't get hung up on little things like _that_." Oh God, he was right of course. That was probably the worst part. Here she was, arguing for equal treatment and then starting to cry as soon as she even thought about killing the Russian. She wiped her eyes, furious with herself.

"I'm really trying," Jess mumbled, sounding pathetic even to her. The Joker thought so, too, as evidenced by the sneer.

"Listen," he said, moving towards the windows, with her right behind, "I already told you, you learn quick for a _regular_ person. But, uh… in my humble opinion, you're not _ready_ to be part of… anything. Not yet, at least." The smile he flashed her was vicious, but it gave Jess hope. _Oh do I have plans for you_, it said. "So, for now, I let you _watch._ Learn. I even let you _do_ a little. And, uh, _sometimes_ I utilize you. I mean, I have to get _something_ out of it. Alex needed to die," his tone was sing-song, "_whether_ or _not_ he threatened me _personally_. He was just too…" his hands swept out, toying with the imaginary word in the air as he searched for it, "influential. _You_ were my pretty little scapegoat."

"That's so shitty of you."

"That's _business_, sweets," he looked at her over his shoulder, tone vicious and eyes dark. "Like I said, this is a delicate operation. You took one for the team. And, uh, if you're _calm_ about it, I won't forget."

Jess heard him—really _heard_ him—and took a deep breath. The fact was, if she fucked this up now, she might never get another chance. This was her big break. He'd been watching her reactions, and now she had to live up to any faith he had in her.

"Okay," she said, nodding to show she understood. The Joker pursed his lips and surveyed her for a long, silent moment, before turning back to the window, eyes skittering over the lights and buildings below. How had he managed to diffuse that pulsing fury? All he had to do was say the right words, and Jess was back in line. She knew that, but the truth of what he was saying was too great to ignore for a little thing like anger.

"C'mere," he said lowly, reaching out to grab her none-too-gently around the shoulders, pulling her against him and gesturing to a building across the block, smaller than the one they occupied. Jess strained her eyes and saw, through the darkness, a smattering of little dots on its rooftop. Men. Quite a few of them; maybe a dozen. All gathered at the ledge that looked across to this building.

"They're watching us," Jess said softly, frowning at them. Police, surely. It was amazing how calm she felt with the Joker's arm around her, even though they were planning to swarm in and arrest or kill them all. Somehow she knew he wouldn't let that happen. He _couldn't_. "Wonder what they're planning…"

"It's all comin' down to the _wire_, Jesster," the Joker replied, eyes trained on the building. "And maybe _some_ people won't survive." There was gravity in his tone. Jess frowned and turned to look at him.

"What are you saying?"

His lips pursed, as though she was supposed to know exactly what his every cryptic statement meant, and his arm dropped away, distancing himself from her.

"_Nothing_." The gruff, uncharacteristic answer jarred Jess, and she narrowed her eyes at him. He was staring out the window, hands behind his back, eyebrows furrowed. The restlessness with which he worked his jaw, the way his tongue endlessly explored the scars on the insides of his cheeks, told her that he was consumed with thought, maybe even anxious over it.

At that moment, that prickling feeling came back to her, the one she'd felt while kissing him earlier, the snapping and crackling in the air as though the energy in the room had reached a tangible peak. It was strange in its apparent randomness – she wasn't feeling overwhelmed with emotion, yet suddenly her hair was standing on end. The sudden tension was unmistakable, like violin strings stretched tight, straining to snap. She felt goose bumps break out all over her body as she looked at him, suddenly understanding something she hadn't known she was missing.

"This is it, isn't it?"

Comprehending that the movie was reaching its climax was an extremely strange sensation, though she supposed she had half expected it the whole time. Nothing was less real, of course—reality was subjective, she'd already come to terms with that—but there was something in the air, some indefinable feeling, that told her the situation was out of everyone's hands and gaining speed.

Like a natural disaster, a lightning storm, it would strike their world in a beautifully devastating moment. Their actions up to this point had paved their path, decided their fate, and now it was all coming to a head.

There was something odd about being reminded of the fictitiousness of Gotham, though of course she'd known it at the back of her mind the entire time. She supposed they all did—the Twenty, the Joker, the Batman. Why else would they fight so hard to bend it? Jess had to wonder if everyone didn't suspect.

"_This is it_," the Joker whispered, intense eyes fixed on the cityscape.

"So what's going to happen?" The Joker glanced over at her quickly, his lip curling before returning pointedly to the view. Jess watched the response swell in him, however, and he almost immediately turned back to her, hands raised irritably.

"_You_ ask too many _questions_," he said, like he just couldn't contain himself. "And I don't wanna _talk_. Youwon't get the answers you _wish_ you could hear… And _I_ know how you take _disappointment_."

"You never give me the answers I want to hear," Jess said seriously.

"Oh," he broke into a phony frown, "So _cynical_ for a little clown_._" Jess opened her mouth to snap back, but he spoke first. "Tell me something, Jesster, because I _really_ wanna know…Have I ever let you down?" The tone was sing-song, lilting, mocking. His sarcasm was getting cruel, which meant he was feeling angry. Jess didn't have to guess why. _She_ was feeling on edge. The atmosphere demanded it. She felt the need to do something drastic, a burst of passion begging to come out. She felt it. Everyone did.

And the Joker was paranoid, anxious, and very, _very_ determined to win this game.

"No," Jess said, her tone a little cold. "No, I've always gotten exactly what I expect from you. I think you like playing the role I cast for you, actually. Villain, boss, Devil, genius… I guess you're right. I don't need to know what will happen. I've learned a lot about myself here, J…"

"_Good_ for you…" It was said absolutely sardonically, through gritted teeth, and Jess smacked his arm, then stepped away as he turned towards her with a murderous expression.

"Let me finish, for once," she snapped. "I know my motives, and I know why I'm here. But in all this time, there's this one question you haven't really answered… and I don't even know if you _can_." It was a challenge, one she was sure he usually wouldn't rise to (he wasn't exactly the most forthcoming with answers), but for whatever reason his eyebrows raised. He still looked pissed, but he wanted to hear this. "_Why_?" Jess asked. "What's _your_ excuse? You know why _I'm_ doing this. But for you… is this all about possession of Gotham? Or is it more about spreading anarchy? Or are you just trying to _change_ this city? It's not the money or even the control over people, I can see that. So _what_? I just don't _get it_, J, even though I try to."

His lips curled back against his teeth and he cracked his jaw, eyes steadily trained away from her.

"You wanna know," he said softly, his voice almost cracking, "_why_ I _do_ what I do?" He shook his head like he just couldn't believe she was so _stupid_, and giggled softly. "There is no _reason_, Jesster. _Reason_ is a myth… it's not real. There aren't any… universal _laws_. No governance. No _higher_ _power_." Such scorn was attached to the words; he deeply believed in what he was saying. And Jess really couldn't help but believe him, too. "The only thing that makes any _sense_ in this whole… _crazy_ world is its_ lack of sense_. Get me, Jesster? And, like any creature of reality, like anyone who _really sees_… I don't have goals. _Reasons_…" he sneered, sucking air in through his teeth. "_I_ do what _I_ do because… I wanna see what happens. How they react. How _you_ react. How much you'll _all_… let me _do_." The mention of her reactions startled Jess, disappointed her.

"How can you group me with everyone else?"

"What?" the Joker laughed scornfully. "You think have, like, the inside scoop?" He wheezed a laugh. "Y'know, _Jesster_, maybe I'm more… _comfortable_ around you because of our, ahem, _intimacy_. But I wouldn't tell _you_ the half of it. You couldn't _conceptualize_ it."

At that moment, the dogs started barking, sprinting to the stairwell door at the back of the room. The Joker immediately ripped his attention from her and strode to the window, looking down to the group of men standing on the rooftop across the way. Jess looked, too. They hadn't changed position, but she caught sight of a large black figure perched on the ledge, his arms spread, holding his cloak out to look unnervingly like the wings of a huge black bat. As she watched, he leaped off the roof, gliding across towards their building until he disappeared from sight below them and Jess heard the huge explosion of shattering glass.

Her heart started pounding as that tension mounted again, charging the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Batman is in the building," she said. The Joker, lip twitching, turned towards her just as someone burst through the stairwell door, caught up momentarily in the mass of barking dogs before the Joker whistled and they backed off. It was Jackson, red faced and wheezing and looking panicked. He wore medical scrubs, and gripped a semi-automatic 10mm pistol.

"Boss! Batman just broke through on the seventh floor and the boys saw SWAT en route down the street. We've already disabled the main elevators, but the hostages aren't gonna fool them for long…"

"So get down there and kill 'em," the Joker replied, almost as though he was bored. "Set up that little ambush. We rendezvous at the theater in thirty minutes, with or without the Bat."

"We're trying to capture the Batman?" Jess asked, flustered, as Jackson nodded at his orders and sprinted back down the stairs. Not answering, the Joker turned to her, strode forward and roughly grabbed her arm, steering her towards the stairwell as well.

"Get out," he said. "You're just gonna get in the way…"

"No!" Jess cried, overwhelmed and starting to get terrified. She pulled away from him. "I'm staying here with you."

"Get _out_, Jesster," the Joker growled, fishing in his jacket to pull out a detonation device—most likely for the ferries—and tossing it from hand to hand. "I'm _busy_."

"Oh fuck you," she yelled. "Why'd you even bring me here?"

"Blakey was supposed to keep you downstairs," the Joker replied, tone low and eyes dark. He was furious, possibly with her, or perhaps just feeling intense. Or both.

"Let me stay," she demanded. The Joker simply rolled his eyes and grabbed her upper arm to try to thrust her towards the door again. Jess wrest out of his grip, turning on her heel to face him before backing up again toward the middle of the room, slowly, like a disobedient child. The Joker regarded her, his jaw working tersely, his lips tight, and threw fleeting glances to the window while his fists clenched and unclenched.

"Don't be _stupid_," he growled at her. His fingers waggled around the detonator in his left hand and, slowly, reluctantly, he slid it back into his pocket, as his other hand fished inside his chest pocket. With a little "ah…" the Joker pulled from his chest pocket a small handgun, shiny and black in his purple gloved hand, wasting no time to aim in straight at her. Jess froze in its line, unable to believe this. He was threatening to _shoot_ her?

"Fucker!" she hissed at him, and watched him cock the weapon.

"Three," he said, gesturing with the gun towards the door. Jess didn't move, her heart pounding. At that point, dying hardly mattered. Pain—Christ she hated pain—was far less tolerable than simple nothing, but the fact was, she had a point to make. And she had to see how far he'd take this. He wouldn't really try to _kill _her, would he?

Maybe she _was_ going crazy. Everyone else seemed to think so.

"Two…" She watched his finger settle against the trigger. She couldn't tell what part of her anatomy he was aiming for, but she was pretty sure it wasn't her head. All things considered, that was probably good, though she certainly didn't want a bullet to tear through her anywhere. She took a small, hesitant step back, her courage failing with every second he had that gun leveled at her.

"One," the Joker said at her movements, his tone low and decisive. His finger squeezed…

Jess closed her eyes involuntarily, a moment of dread and horror rushing through her before she heard the gun click, empty. She opened her eyes to find the Joker regarding it with irritation, smacking his lips in distaste. No bullets. Fucking God, all of this and she'd been saved by a mere _fluke_. There was some kind of irony there, hideous and glaring. Not to sound like the Joker or anything, but it was almost kind of funny. Or it would have been, if it didn't piss her off so badly.

Suddenly, before her brain had time to work any of this out, she was striding at him, bubbling with fury.

"You just tried to fucking _shoot_ me?" she demanded, and his dark eyes darted to hers, his lips curling into a delighted smile at her anger. She ran the last few steps at him, jarring her aching head, and threw her fist at his jaw at the same time as he swung the handle of the gun towards her. Somehow, with some glorious burst of luck, she caught his swing right at her head level, and her other fist sailed into his chin. Using his distraction, born of pain, she fought with him until the gun clattered to the floor and he'd forced her away.

Things were suddenly very out of control, he wasn't being reasonable, and Jess could only think to lunge forward again and try to dig in his pocket for the detonator. If she had it, he'd _have _to let her stay…

He flung his arms out, pushing her roughly away, but she came back again, undeterred, and tried for the device. With a growl, his patience snapped and he lashed out, a powerful fist striking her across the jaw. Jess felt something pop and blood filled her mouth, which she spit out on the floor; but she hardly felt the pain. Adrenaline did that. Or maybe her head was fucked up after being knocked out for who knows how long. It was really, _really_ bad for you.

She let out an animalistic scream and attacked for the third time, but he didn't give her a fighting chance. Easily out-stepping her clumsy swings, he balled his hand into a fist and brought it hard into her stomach. Jess wheezed, losing her air, and stumbled back against the doorframe of the out of service elevator.

The Joker followed closely, not done with her yet, and grabbed a chunk of her hair, ripping some out by the roots as her eyes watered weakly. He tugged her towards him by it, pressing against her for a moment with a derisive chuckle, before he brought his mouth hard against hers. Jess wrestled against him until he slammed her head into the metallic doorframe, lips breaking away. She whimpered, vision going blurry, and brought a knee into his groin, which finally made him wheeze and back up. But she couldn't gather herself, couldn't shake the dizziness from her vision, could only stand there and sway while he came back at her for his final blow.

He punched her right in the face, right in the eye, so hard she was unconscious before hitting the floor. The last thing she was aware of before blackness overtook her was the tiny, inconsequential thought that he'd pushed her onto the platform of the shaky scaffolding in the empty elevator shaft. She fell heavily onto it, once again knocked into darkness.

* * *

Jess woke to the sound of barking dogs, her head swimming furiously, aching like mad. She was dizzy, incredibly dizzy, so much so that she couldn't make out a goddamn thing in the room beyond. She tried to sit up, but failed abysmally, her upper body landing heavily back onto the scaffolding. She heard the structure creak, heard something snap off somewhere along its legs and land with a metallic clink on the solid platform a floor below. The scaffolding swayed and Jess sat very, very still, only faintly aware of the grunts and barks from the room beyond.

When her vision cleared enough that she could make sense of the scene, Jess couldn't believe it was real for a long second. This had to be some kind of dream; it was too classic, too perfect. Here she was, a mundane young woman from a mundane point in time and space, watching the battle between two of the greatest arch-nemeses in history.

The Joker was standing over the Batman with a crowbar, throwing solid whacks at his body, quick and spry, while the dogs snarled viciously and tried to dig their teeth between the plates in his armor. Not standing it for long, the Dark Knight sent his powerful legs out and kicked the Joker away. Jess watched him fall to the ground with a strange mix of gloating and mind-numbing fear.

_This is it_, was all she could think. _This is it. This is it. This is it_.

Agile as ever, in half a moment the Joker was back on his feet, hardly giving the Batman time to throw off the dogs before he'd launched himself upon him again, crowbar sailing madly. The Caped Crusader was pushed into a spare piece of netting hanging from an exposed beam, which was enough to slow him and allow the Joker to send him to the ground again. Jess thought it was a little strange; her madman seemed to be winning this one. She stared at the back of his greasy, sweaty head for a long second, surprisingly full of pride as he delivered a solid crack with the crowbar. He was pushed off again instantly, sprawling across the ground and giggling breathlessly, and the Batman stood, shrugging off the net. The eyes of his mask gleamed electric blue in the darkness, startling Jess, but the way he moved suggested it was difficult to see.

He couldn't see at all! Jess saw that as quickly as the Joker did; the Batman was standing, blind and confused, in the center of the room, trying to regain his bearings. The Joker casually dropped the crowbar, paced a circle and picked up a slightly larger lead pipe from the ground, twirling it in his hands as he watched his enemy the way a panther might stalk its prey. He worked his jaw tersely before making a decision, and launched himself back at the super hero, the butt end of the pipe poised to deliver a dizzying blow to his face.

A dizzying blow it was. The Caped Crusader shattered a window pane and sprawled to the floor with a crash that made Jess jump, which in turn made the entire scaffolding shudder hideously. Jess reached out and put a hand on the metal wall, increasingly suspicious of the soundness of this structure. It felt like it could collapse any minute.

From this angle, it was difficult to see exactly what was going on. Straining her neck, but fearful of too much movement, Jess surmised that the Batman was laying on the ledge of a broken window—thirty stories up—with the Joker straddling him, pipe to his neck. They were… they were _talking_. She couldn't make out the words, but she could hear the Bat's low growl, the Joker's high pitched tone. They stilled in a moment, and the Joker turned to look back to his makeshift work bench, set up in the corner opposite her. For the first time, Jess saw the time: midnight. How did midnight happen already?

It didn't seem to be good news for the Joker. He looked back out to the city, the Batman rumbled something low, and he growled in irritation, casting his weapon back behind him before fishing that detonator from his pocket.

Midnight. Perhaps the ferries' time was up.

The Batman was growling fiercely at the Joker, whose tone suggested he was disappointed for whatever reason. Jess scooted slowly over, the structure creaking horribly with every movement, so that she could see the side of the Joker's face, his makeup gleaming with sweat and moonlight. He had Batman lodged under a metal beam, she saw now, and his words traveled back to her, easier to hear when she watched his lips form them.

"You can't rely on anyone these days," he told the Bat. "You gotta do _everything_ yourself, _don't_ we? That's okay." He dug in his pocket, brought out the detonator. "I came prepared." For a moment, his eyes lifted to the city beyond, ponderous. "It's a funny world we live in," he said, then looked back to the hero. "Speaking of which, you know how I got these scars?"

"No," the Batman growled back. "But I know how you got these."

The next few seconds were a blur. The Dark Knight released some kind of hidden blade from his armored forearm which flew at the Joker, striking him in the face. He let out a cry of true surprise, mouth gaping, and Jess lurched forward reflexively, reaching out for him. At this movement, the scaffolding finally gave way beneath her. With a horrible metallic clang, one of the legs broke and she felt the platform tilt at the same time as the Batman grabbed the Joker by the collar and flung him headfirst over the ledge.

In a moment, Jess was falling, the Joker's dying laugh echoing in her ears. He was falling, too, she had time to think before she hit the solid surface a story below. He was falling, laughing, but his fall was much longer. He was exhilarated, ecstatic. He'd won. His death proved that.

Then her platform crashed into what she assumed was the top of the elevator a floor below. Jess landed hard on her side, felt her shoulder give way and snap out of joint, felt her hip pound mercilessly into the ground and her ribs creak. Her head was spared by her disjointed arm, but in those few seconds of ringing silence following the crash, Jess found she had no more strength. Nothing was left, besides the pain. She couldn't even move, just laid there covered in dust and plaster and broken beams and blood in an elevator shaft and thought about the fact that the greatest man she'd ever know was now a pile of guts on the sidewalk.

There were no windows on the wall she'd been facing on this floor, but even if there had been, she wouldn't have been able to see him fall. If she'd known… if she'd only known that glimpse of him would be her last… if she'd only known that forceful kiss he'd pressed on her would conclude the rest of them…

Jess started to sob, the heaving painful in her chest. Everything hurt, everything hurt so much. And she couldn't start to think… she couldn't even begin to accept…

"Dead." She found the word springing from her lips before she could think it, and it seemed to echo in the silence around. The world was darker… or perhaps now it had another hole in which to let that garish light. That horrible, all burning, all consuming radiance that devoured and destroyed the unknown, the chaos. The blanket of shadow was all that kept her safe, and now it had a gaping tear.

The Joker was dead. And Jess was done. She couldn't do this anymore, couldn't deal with this. She was going to die, too, and that would be far better than where she was. Perhaps her injuries were grave enough. She could only hope so.

There was this repulsive emptiness, a kind of numb shock sweeping over her, leaving her cold. Jess rolled over and vomited onto the beams beside her head, the pressure in her skull building to unspeakable volumes. And then came the anger. The Batman had done this. Didn't he _care_? He was supposed to be so _good_, so _pure_. Did he not care about her, about leaving her alone, about _killing the man she loved_? What kind of a fucking _hero_ was he now?

The Joker had been right. He was a murderer, just like the rest of them. He had no fucking _right_ to be doing what he was doing, with such hideous pretension, trying to _show others the way_. What kind of way could it possibly be if _he_ was leading it?

She'd shoot him right in the fucking face if she ever saw him again.

But even that, she knew, wouldn't ease this loss.

Jess wished she was unconscious. She wished the fall had knocked her out. There was pain, too much pain, and it didn't distract at all from the pain in her heart, the sinking in her gut. He was gone. She'd never felt more cold, more alone. The Joker was dead.

"Jess?" It was a loud whisper, carrying from across the room, where someone had just poked his head through the stairwell door. "Holy fucking Jesus, I thought you'd been caught."

Jess didn't look up from the pile of puke on the floor, and tears kept dripping from her eyes. She could hear it was Billy, heard his footsteps rapid on the ground as he came to rescue her from the elevator shaft. Not that she needed it. She wanted to lay here forever, lost in pain and grief. That seemed like the only thing she could do. She just didn't have the strength for anything else anymore.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Billy was asking as he knelt by her. He touched her uninjured shoulder, rolled her onto his back and saw the damage she couldn't. "Holy shit! Jess, what the fuck? What happened to you?" She didn't answer, just stared blankly up the shaft to the door above. She heard shouting up there. Why was everyone always shouting?

"Come on," Billy said, forcing his arm under her back and minding the pile of vomit. "Can you stand? We have to move, fast, or they'll find us too. I don't…" he gulped and pushed against her back. Slowly, reluctantly, Jess sat up, her bones screaming in pain. "I don't know how many they got but it doesn't look too good, Jess. The boss is totally MIA and they've called off the search." He hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her to stand beside him, but her hip gave way immediately and, with a cry of pain, she fell into him. Her leg hurt more than she'd ever experienced, and every brush of Billy's arm against her side was a spike of agony. She felt like a broken ragdoll, and Billy was _still_ fucking _talking_.

"Have you seen him? How about Blake? Anyone else? We have to hurry. Christ you're limping bad. Anything broken? Are you okay?"

"Billy," Jess rasped, breathless, suffering and furious as she limped towards the stairs. "Will you just _shut the fuck up_?"

He did it without another question, halting when they got to the steps and hoisting her into his arms. Jess hated that he was carrying her, even touching her, but there was no way she'd make it down quickly enough without him. Billy was breathing heavily three flights later, but he was moving fast. They left the building and burst into the city night without meeting anyone—not another of the Twenty, a patient or a cop. It was a glorious burst of luck at the end of the worst day of her life.

And the Joker was dead.

* * *

Three men were waiting for them when they got back to the theater. They came through the emergency exit with Billy already shouting that it was them, was anyone else here and could they please fucking help him? They'd gotten a taxi seven blocks from the building—the place the Joker had breathed his last, Jess couldn't help but remind herself—and they'd been dropped off ten blocks from the theater. Billy was tired of lugging her, and Jess was in so much pain she couldn't focus on anything else. Her arm ached like nothing she'd ever experienced before, hanging lifelessly at her side. Trying to wiggle her fingers sent unpleasant shock waves all the way up to her shoulder, and every time she put any weight on her right leg, she felt like she wanted to faint. She was so exhausted. So exhausted.

Like a dream, through the darkness trudged Jackson, Keith, and Seth, alive and greatly shaken. The men started talking in hushed voices as Keith hoisted Jess into his arms and carried her back to the rec room. She could do nothing but bury her face in his shoulder, and then stare ahead when they sat her on the couch. None of them were paying much attention to her injuries—Seth had the foresight to prop her legs on a pillow—and all of them were nearly hysterical. They shot questions her way—whether she knew what had happened to the Bat, whether she knew what happened to the boss—but she couldn't talk about it. Not yet, possibly not ever. So she simply shook her head and kept silent. Keith sent her worried glances every once in a while, anxiety born of her strange behavior, but otherwise they left her alone and discussed what was going on.

It was an hour later, when they were debating what they should do, whether the Joker would come back or not, that Jess found she finally had to say something.

"He's not coming back." They were the first words she'd spoken to them that night, and they caused all four men to turn and gaze at her. Surprise crossed their faces first, then horror. Seth looked like he might be nauseous, his young face pale in the dim light. Billy leaned forward.

"You sure?" he said. Jess found she could nod, and none of them asked how she knew. She was grateful for that.

"He's gone," she got out. Jackson pursed his lips, ran a hand over his face, and slowly stood up to pace back and forth. He checked the clock on the wall.

"Two thirty five," he mused, then shook his head, his look suggesting he'd just made a very quick, very difficult decision. "Okay, get your shit. We're leaving."

"What?" Seth croaked, his voice cracking like a little boy. "Where? How do you know where to go?"

"The boss told me," Jackson said. "He said what to do if he ever…" He stole a quick glance at Jess, one she didn't miss but found she couldn't care about. That last word, the one he wouldn't say? It was _died_. The Joker, the man she loved, was dead. The Batman had killed him. "If he wasn't coming back. But we have to hurry, so _go_." Seth, Keith and Billy immediately nodded and headed out of the room. They were good, by now, at foregoing questions and just trusting the orders they were given.

"Jess," Jackson said softly, once they were alone, "let's get your stuff, okay?"

Jess let him lift her into his arms and carry her to her room, that tiny prop closet she'd grown quite fond of. She was losing that, too. She was losing the whole theater, this wonderful base with all its secrets and its costumes and its rats. Her home. Soon it would be as gone as everyone and everything else she loved.

Her clothes were tossed quickly into a garbage bag, which Jackson slung over his shoulder as Jess sat on her cot for the last time. Her fingers traced the pillow, darting underneath for a second and discovering soft paper. Withdrawing the object, which she'd quite forgotten about, Jess found that half-pill she'd hidden there—it seemed like ages ago. Suppressing the desire to take it and leave this world behind, Jess pocketed it. She'd need it later, she surmised. She was still going through shock, and if the real pain was worse than this torture, no drug in the world would be enough. But, by God, she could try them all.

Jackson wrapped his arm around her and helped her limp for the door. They met Billy, Seth and Keith in the hallway, all looking melancholy, with their bags and pillows piled in their arms. It looked like a group of sad children leaving summer camp, only they were burned and stained and tired. You almost had to laugh at it, it was so depressing. If Jess could ever laugh again, maybe she'd laugh at this.

They headed for the basement stairs, the door of which had been left ajar, which Jess thought, had she noticed earlier today, would have been a very bad omen. Hind-sight is 20/20, but the Joker _always_ kept this door locked. She would have noticed. She should have.

Silently, they descended into the darkness. Jess reached out and flipped the light switch as they passed, illuminating the Joker's den, the newspapers on the walls, the desk scattered with papers and the remains of shredded blueprints. Apparently, he'd had a little forethought. All of his notes seemed to be destroyed, the pieces scattered across the ground. Honestly, it looked like he'd had fun there, tearing up the papers, tossing them around. A strong image stuck in Jess's mind, like a memory she'd never actually experienced, of the Joker twirling in his purple tails, fragments of his life's work spilling from his hands. She found she couldn't even cry anymore. This pain was more than tears.

The men stopped shortly to look at their boss's wall art, trace their fingers along the newspaper and muse about what it all meant. Jess touched the papers, too, remembering the time he'd forced her against them and whispered threats into her hair. Christ, they hadn't even been together then. They'd been enemies at one point. She'd hated him. How had she ever done that?

Shortly, Jackson ordered them to follow him deeper into the basement, winding his way around boxes and piles of junk. They stopped at a door, one Jess hadn't noticed the couple of times she'd been down here, set deep into a niche in the wall. It was metal, reinforced, with a solid steel handle. Jackson didn't even try to open it. Jess noticed a huge old keypad, clearly awaiting the code to unlock it, set into the concrete just right of the door. For a moment, everyone stood in silence.

"We have to wait until three," Jackson explained. "That's what he said. Anytime within the hour of three o'clock, am or pm, and then we can unlock it."

"Where does it go?" Billy asked.

"No idea. He just said to go through it. He said it went to a safe place."

They waited for ten minutes, anxious. Jess had to lean against the wall shortly, panting, her hip and shoulder absolutely killing her. When three o'clock rolled around, Jackson announced it with a clap of his hands.

"Okay," he said. "Jess, come here. Let's do this."

Not knowing what he expected, Jess came forward and stood shakily before the metal barrier. Everyone waiting for a few seconds for someone else to act, until Jackson cleared his throat.

"What?" Jess snapped back at him. "What do you want?"

"Well…" He said, a little sheepish. "Don't you have the code? I was told you have it."

A discombobulating sense of déjà vu overwhelmed Jess as she looked at the numbers on the pad, then, slowly, down to her arm. Hands shaking a little, she pulled back her long red sleeve to look at the writing there. It wasn't the hardest puzzle to solve. It was like he'd known he wasn't coming back.

Anxiety washed over her as Jess leaned forward and keyed in the code he'd written on her arm in Sharpie: 5377. The door clicked. Jackson pulled it open.

A gust of stale air blew through the entryway, pushing her hair back and causing a shiver to race up her spine. The room seemed to hum with a strange energy, tangible yet vague, and it took a few bracing breaths before Jess was able to step through and see what was on the other side.

The answer was disappointing. A continuation of the basement they'd just left—as dusty, dim and cluttered as the one before—awaited the five weary travelers. Jess felt vaguely nauseous on the other side, but when the door clicked close behind them and nothing else happened, the feeling passed. She hadn't known what she'd expected. It was simply more basement.

"Stairs," Keith pointed out. A light had been left on, a utility light in the corner, and it was enough to see the hulking set of steps across from them. Silently, the five of them made their way to it, Jess being helped up by Seth and Billy.

The theater beyond was much different than the one they'd known—far dustier for one thing, much more worn down. Beams of wood blocked every window, and filth and abandoned construction tools littered the lobby. The men grumbled about fucking secrets, and Jess had to wonder, too. Why would he lead them to an abandoned wing in their own base? How was this safer?

Keith saw it before anyone, crying out excitedly as he pointed to the ground. Looking now, clearly visible even through the layers of filth, was a huge green arrow in spray paint, pointing directly towards the emergency exit across the room. They headed for it immediately, somehow exhilarated by this discovery. It was like he was with them, guiding them. Seth reached the door first, waiting until they'd stopped behind him before taking a deep breath and pulling it open with a horrible squeal.

The burst of sunlight through the emergency exit startled Jess. It was three, three in the morning. What the fuck was going on?

Blinking, they filed through. It took a long moment for her eyes to adjust, and even longer to conceive of what was before her. The men stood stock still with her, mouths agape. She was sure the same feeling of horror had swept over all of them.

They stood in the dusty parking lot of an abandoned opera house, the sun high in the sky, surrounded by yards of metal fencing. Jess saw a string of traffic lights at the intersection across the way, but no cars traveled down this rarely-used road, nothing like the city they'd left behind. It was cold and crisp, late winter, and three vans were still parked there, dusty and abandoned. Before any of them had time to react, the door to the theater swung shut behind them. The handle had been ripped away. _No Entry_ was sprawled across in black paint.

It wasn't mind-boggling, because it had happened before. At that moment, Jess was not confused. She was not scared or intrigued or excited. In fact, she'd never felt anything like the emotion ripping through her at that moment. There were no words to possibly describe it. Sinking to her knees, because she simply could not stand anymore, Jess began to cry.

She was home.

* * *

**THE END**


	36. Chapter 36

Hey guys! I'm baaaaack!

I just wanted to update and let you know that the first chapter of the SEQUEL to You Can't Spell Slaughter Without Laughter has been posted!

It's called Caligula in Red. Go read it!

Love forever.


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